


The Maiden and The Outlaw

by Thorfanficwriter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Angst and Feels, Awkward Flirting, Battle, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Feminist Themes, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Kidnapping, Love, Medieval AU, Medieval Medicine, Middle Ages, Mild Language, Rescues, Robin Hood References, Romance, Sherwood Forest, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Torture, female OC given no other descriptors, nottingham castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 46,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorfanficwriter/pseuds/Thorfanficwriter
Summary: Mixing folklore and the MCU with the tiniest pinch of history, this Robin Hood inspired AU features James Buchanan Barnes, Samuel Thomas Wilson and Steven Grant Rogers. Also included is the requisite nasty sheriff played by none other than Brock Rumlow. Other Marvel favorites are sprinkled in as well. Yes, of course Thor is going to show up somewhere. You just wait and see. All the adventure and romance you would expect, minus the silly hats.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 157
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legend of Robin Hood

**Nottingham, England 1192 AD**

_When best friends, Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes return from the Crusades, they find their homeland under the tyrannical thumb of the new, ruthless sheriff, Brock Rumlow. While the rightful king, Nicholas, is still in Jerusalem his brother, Alexander, mans the throne exacting exorbitant taxes on their subjects._

_With nowhere else to turn, the brothers-in-arms retreat, as others before them, into the nearby forest. The woodland dwellers begin to band together._

_Their numbers grow steadily._

* * *

Hundreds of years ago, in the heart of merry old England, the town of Nottingham was surrounded by vast, deep woods. Tall, ancient trees grew interwoven with dense brush where in days long past Anglo-Saxons, Druids and even Vikings had been known to roam. This land was so abundant that the reigning King Nicholas had declared the area, known as Sherwood, a royal forest. This meant that everything within its boundaries – every plant, mineral and animal – belonged to the Crown. In addition to amply providing needed resources such as timber, Sherwood Forest was also used for sport. At those times when the king stayed at the castle, he would often gather a party to go stag hunting. 

Two years after Nicholas’ succession, he sailed for the Middle East to fight the Church’s holy war. His disreputable brother was left to oversee the nation’s affairs. Having a lifelong goal to undermine his older brother, Alexander wasted no time in plotting. The royal ship had hardly left port before he began a scheme to seize power permanently. 

While there was a chance that Nicholas would never return, the prince did not believe Fortune would sway in his favor. It certainly never had before. Therefore, the weaselly man decided to grab as much political muscle for himself as he possibly could. To do that, he needed wealth. Coin and other property he did not personally have access to. So, he raised harsher taxes, claiming the Third Crusade was straining the nation’s resources. 

During this time, Prince Alexander remained in the city, preoccupied with his conniving. He had no interest in Sherwood Forest. However, the royal tract did continue to be managed by the delegated warden and rangers. Animals and habitat, alike, remained protected under strict orders. The threat of severe punishments was usually enough to deter most would-be offenders, and this system functioned uncorrupted until the prince ordered his outrageous taxes be collected in any manner deemed necessary. 

In his tenure as Nottingham’s appointed sheriff, Phillip J. Coulson, had rarely been called upon to administer sentences for crimes committed in the kingswood, let alone the village. He was all too aware that the strain put upon the people had forced them to take desperate measures. The fair, righteous man often questioned the transitory ruler and could not, in good conscience, carry out the merciless tactics demanded. His greedy deputy, Brock Rumlow, saw this as a fortuitous opportunity and took it. Pledging fealty to Alexander, the overly ambitious scoundrel assassinated Coulson thus gaining the rank for himself. His reign of fear began immediately. 

Between the woods and village proper, lie mostly farmland. Demanding higher payments from the landowners and yeomen was one thing. Terrorizing them as well as their vassals and serfs, quite another. The royal protectors of the forest began turning blind eyes as their own family and friends resorted to poaching to stave off hunger and feed their children. Those who didn’t flee Nottingham altogether, sought refuge in the forest. Even though they technically were not allowed to make use of a single branch without permission, the foresters were willing to ignore folks taking only what they needed. In this way, the they had become allies with the outlaws. 

For a time, Rumlow had other concerns greater than the goings on in the woods. He was getting what he needed to maintain good favor with the prince and reaping the benefits befitting the position. If people chose to live like barbarians, what was it to him? However, the situation began to trouble him when the tax hauls were robbed. 

Thefts, in the beginning, were rare and sporadic. The first instance being a couple of swineherds stopped on their way to the castle. The sheriff was not only incensed to learn the hapless men did not bother putting up a fight, but their attackers couldn’t be identified due to keeping concealed everywhere but the eyes. Rumlow had the pair’s meager pay docked, but they felt their hides were worth more than those of a couple sows any day. The sole lesson they learned was that their boss was a cantankerous sot. 

Holdups of the sheriff’s wagons soon followed. This was resolved easily by adding guards to the conveyances, he thought but, very quickly, the king’s road began to become the favorite target of the bandits ambushing goods making way to the castle. Rumlow then ordered they be escorted by men on horseback. To his dismay, sometimes even the horses were taken. 

A favorite trick of the outlaws was to stretch a camouflaged vine or rope across the path. When it was pulled taught, it would startle the horses allowing the culprits to easily knock the guards from their mounts and disarm them. 

Most frustrating of all was the fact that the stories were never the same. Sometimes it was a band of men wielding swords. Others it was wildings using more primitive weapons. In one instance, they were bombarded with arrows coming from the very trees. The guards were in no way prepared for that type of guerilla warfare. They were merely thankful that, surprisingly, the miscreants would mete out a mortal wound only in the interest of self-defense. 

Of course, the prince would accept no excuse for a shortage on his levies. If the full amount wasn’t received, the difference was taken from the sheriff's pay. To add insult to these injuries, the stolen goods were being redistributed among those in need.  Rumlow was berated for being a dupe as well as threatened the position would be reassigned to someone more capable if the matter wasn’t corrected expeditiously.

He then sent a messenger summoning Sherwood’s warden to Nottingham’s castle. This was taken with great offense due the chief forestry rank being one of a royal  official. They were, in fact, equals. The message was ignored.  Rumlow then decided to ride out with a few of men to meet the officer on their own turf. His verbally abusive questioning was not taken to kindly. The warden forcibly reminded him the king’s road was not under their jurisdiction and, therefore, not their responsibility. Instead of obtaining the assistance he required,  Rumlow had managed to make more enemies. The foresters chased his party from the woods.

The sheriff’s embarrassment grew exponentially as did his worry. Quite vociferous, Rumlow’s cursing displeasure could easily be heard throughout the halls of the castle on a regular basis. Naturally, gossip being the most popular form of entertainment among villagers, word spread quickly of the sheriff being bested by lowly robbers in the woods. The tales grew and were exaggerated until the leader was dubbed Robin Hood, the Commoners First Hero. 

The once mild inconvenience had grown into a full-fledged problem. Brock Rumlow had always been one to dispose of trouble swiftly and would see an end to his grief post-haste. In his experience, the best method to accomplish this was an appropriate measure of fear and force. With the prince’s backing he issued a decree stating anyone not pledging their allegiance to him, or caught aiding the rebels, would either be imprisoned or executed onsite with neither trial nor jury. 

He vowed to get Robin Hood if it was the last thing he did. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our heroine.

The king’s road ran from London through the entirety of Nottingham and right through the middle of town continuing northward. In that part of the shire, the lane was no more than a path worn over the years by countless feet, hooves and wheels. This served as the main avenue between villager and castle. It was along this pathway a young lady, accompanied by her maid, found herself traveling heavy with discontent. 

Gemma hated riding in carriages. The flat wooden benches left a lot to be desired in the matter of comfort. She would have much preferred to ride and enjoy the open air. Yet, the sheriff had insisted on sending his own transportation to collect her. Declining the offer had not been an option. 

The conveyance was every bit as uncomfortable as any other despite the status of its owner. Dirt tracks and iron wheels did not make for smooth rides. Every bump and dip was transferred to the passengers. The poor girls had spent the first twenty minutes fighting off nausea induced by all the jostling. Exacerbating the problem was the plain leather covering helpful in keeping unwanted elements out. However, on warm sunny days such as that they found themselves, it seemed to only trap the heat and moisture. Furthermore, the open-ended construction served as sort of a tunnel drawing in the stench from the equine pair whose diets Gemma seriously questioned at the time. 

Thankfully, the driver was in no hurry. The ride was navigated as slowly and smoothly as possible. To her gratification, this not only improved the journey, but was also delaying their arrival. More time to decide how, exactly, she would deal with that nasty sheriff. 

Years ago, not long after he had moved to Nottingham, Rumlow had seen the lovely Gemma in church. He became infatuated on the spot. The fact that the Selwyns owned one of the best lots of land made her all the more desirable. Being the type of man who stopped at nothing to get what he wanted, he showed up at their manor house and declared his intentions the very next day. Being merely the deputy, her parents had rejected the request to court their daughter. To her dismay, as soon as his position improved, so did their attitude towards him. With no inquiries into her own feelings on the matter, Gemma was betrothed to the royal officer. 

The announcement wasn’t as much of a shock to the young maiden as it might seem to the modern reader. Brought up as an only child of noble birth, Gemma had always known the only value she held to her parents was the likelihood of a profitable marriage. However, a dilemma arose once she began to form her own ideas on the matter. She dreamed of finding true love. 

Marian, both maid and friend, had done her best to dissuade her friend of romanticized notions. The sensible thing to do would be to hope for the best but resign to fate. Countless arguments with Lord and Lady Selwyn resulted in nothing but further frustration. Gemma, knowing that she ultimately had no say in the matter, was utterly powerless, had prayed to be affianced to someone with the possibility of being a good partner. A man that might, at least, treat her with a bit of respect. 

Brock Rumlow was not that man. 

A pervading sense of dread would permeate Gemma’s bones whenever he looked at her. His eyes always suggested such a shrewd lasciviousness. She would need to draw her attention elsewhere. She couldn’t determine just what it was that inspired such ogling from him and decided, for the time being it was probably best not to know.

The shame of it was, Rumlow could have been extremely physically attractive if it wasn’t for a demeanor that made him the ugliest man she’d had the displeasure to meet. For one thing, since becoming sheriff, he had adopted a penchant for wearing all black. All the time. Rumor was he even slept in that sole hue. Frankly, it was quite disturbing. For another, between the aggressively close shorn hair and permanent scowl on his face, he constantly carried an aura of meanness. Even when he tried speaking gently to her, Gemma couldn’t help but envision a cobra waiting to strike. 

She was shaken out of these ruminations by her maid’s voice. Wanting to cheer the grimace off from her mistress’s face, Marian, offered hopeful platitudes.

“Think on the bright side of things. Your family is now under his protection and will be provided for.” 

“We were doing well enough without his interference. She only wishes to advance one step closer to court.”

Her mother had been all too ready to pack Gemma’s belonging, mostly clothes and sundries, in anticipation of the benefits that would be bestowed upon them in return for her daughter’s hand. The land dowry included a sizeable parcel along with the serfs that worked it and some livestock. 

The sole request Gemma had made was that her maid be allowed to go with her. Although Marian was technically more of a general house servant, she had helped to raise Gemma. She was merely five years older, yet Marian became a surrogate for the status-seeking mother who did not want to be bothered. The girls had grown up together. When Lady Selwyn realized there could be one less mouth to feed as well as another opportunity to appear of higher status than was strictly true, she beseeched the maid’s inclusion. Rumlow acquiesced, recognizing that the small compromise might help endear him to his future wife. 

“Surely, he will give you fine clothes and maybe even some jewels,” Marian added. 

“What matter those things if I am unhappy? The majority of his wealth, if not all, is ill-gotten. I could not enjoy any of it knowing our neighbors suffer. No. This is not to be borne, I tell you.” The more she considered her predicament, the angrier she became. 

Growing up as a female noble, Gemma’s entire education revolved around learning the arts of society and household management. Her schooling only included that which would refine her manners and reflect favorably upon her future husband. The Selwyns had no desire to waste time and money on teaching her more than the basics in mathematics or other sciences. But Gemma was the type of person who craved knowledge. Try as she might, simply accepting the status quo had never satisfied her. 

Many a time, she had snuck into her father’s library to ferret off with some text which would be considered, by many, highly unladylike. In this way, Gemma learned of differing philosophies and endless possibilities offered by a world she had very little experience with.

Then and there, inside the carriage, she decided her fate would no longer be left in the hands of others who cared for nothing more than their own well-being. The top of the castle turret was soon within site and if action wasn’t taken soon, opportunity may never present itself again. Gemma stood, crouching and leaned to the front of the wagon.

“Driver?” she shouted. He turned his head slightly to indicate he had heard her. “I say, driver! Could we please stop a moment?” 

Assuming that one or both women needed to relieve themselves, he answered, “We’re nearly there, ma’am.”

In truth, the gates were at least two miles ahead, however the driver was anxiously yearning for a tankard of mead. 

“Please,” she simply repeated. 

Huffing, and rolling his eyes, he pulled up on the reigns to stop the horses. The guard that was escorting them stood, hopped to the ground, then turned to help the ladies from the wagon. 

Gemma righted her skirts and took a good look around. Being midday, there were others traveling along the road but not close enough to be of any concern. She took Marian’s arm, turned her towards the line of trees and headed straight for them. 

“Remember don’t wander far.” Gemma worried for a second that the guard suspected her plan. “There are robbers in the woods.” 

“Yes, of course,” she answered.

Making sure there was no one else around, she forced Marian to crouch with her and they ventured deeper. When she could no longer see the guard and driver, she assumed they also would not see her. They ducked behind some trees. 

“What are you doing?” Marian asked. 

“I can’t marry that man. Come with me.” 

“Surely you are joking. Come with you where? Where could we possibly go?” 

“Many people live in the forest. We’ll find help. This is a chance for freedom. For both of us.” 

“Freedom to live as outlaws. No, thank you.” 

“Marian, do as you must, but I cannot live a life in servitude to a man such as he. I will not. Better to be an outlaw of my own free will than chattel to others.” 

After a couple moments of arguing, Gemma managed to convince her friend to take the risk. Soon after, they could hear the guard shouting for them and entering the woods. The women gathered their skirts as best they could and took off. 

Unfamiliar with the forest, navigating the terrain was tricky. Every rock or fallen branch presented a potential turn of the ankle. They ducked and weaved between the trees and brush hoping to make the chase more difficult. A few yards of this, hoping they had been successful, then the pair stopped to check. Together, they used the wide trunk of a tall oak tree as a shield while watching the direction of the road for further signs of the chase. 

They refreshed their lungs as they waited. There was no movement to be seen other than some birds flying overhead. The rustling of the breeze through the forest was the only sound added to their own. The coast looked clear. Both breathed sighs of relief, faces breaking into grins. They had gotten away. 

No sooner had the girls relaxed when, without warning, the women were grabbed from behind. Each of their mouths were covered by one gloved hand as another wrapped around their waists to hold them captive. 

Their attempts to scream were futile. The powerful arms gripped even tighter. A physical warning for them to keep still. A gruff whisper cautioned, “Make no further sound if you value your lives.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is it that has waylaid our fair maidens?

Instinctively, Gemma tried straining against the offensive appendage. The effort was wasted. The limb was no more moveable than one of the elms. In response to her persistent squirming, the arm around Gemma’s middle squeezed tighter. The restriction, pressing her back against the hard wall of her captor’s chest, caused enough discomfort to halt further protests. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered that the man had much more strength than he applied. This was a powerful person not to be trifled with. There was no alternative but to stop resisting. 

A muffled squeak came out against his right hand as the grievous arm pulled upward and her feet left the earth. His breath was hot and heavy in her ear. “Hush. He will hear you,” the man sternly growled in a low, deep voice. 

Marian was in no better state and Gemma instantly regretted getting them into such a predicament. Though hidden beneath the hood of a brown caplet draped over his head and shoulders, the other attacker also appeared to be strong and fit. She feared they were done for. The next thing she knew, they were hastily swept under cover of thickset foliage. 

The camouflaged foursome’s eyes were all drawn a few yards ahead where the black and grey costume of the sheriff’s man could be seen lurking about. In unison, kidnappers and victims alike held their breaths as the driver’s voice called from further off. “Any sign?” 

Facing back towards the road, the guard shouted, “Could have sworn I heard something, but there's not a sign now. Lord knows where they could have gotten off to.” He continued walking in the direction of the wagon, out of the tree line. “Damnable bitches. He’ll cut our wages for sure. I hope the pair of ‘em get eaten by wolves.” 

An involuntary huff left Gemma’s lungs, but lodged in her throat due to the gloved hand clasped firmly against her mouth. Her captor softly whispered, “Steady.” 

Straightaway, they heard the movement of horses and wheels. The women were finally removed from the brush and released. Feet hardly hitting the ground, Gemma immediately took off again. She didn’t slow for a moment, even when the man behind her shouted, “Hey! Wait!” Unfortunately, she wasn’t nearly fast enough. In moments, her arm was grabbed and she was forced to stop. She turned and struck out with her knee. With some luck, her intended target was hit dead on. The man clutched his nether region, doubled over and fell to the ground groaning in pain. The other man, began howling in laughter as she started off again. 

Marian yelled, “Gemma! Stop! I know them!” 

The younger woman halted and spun around. Panting, she asked, “How could you possibly know these blackguards?” 

“Well, I know _of_ them to be more accurate. These are Robin Hood’s men.” 

The hero to the commoner’s had been all the talk for weeks. Nobody knew exactly where he had come from, but word was he had gathered a sizeable following of men. This band of mischief makers were said to not only continually rob the sheriff but, in fact, redistributed the wealth back among those who were in need. Tenants and servants spoke constantly of their “merry exploits”. Facts which certainly were exaggerated. Who knew where the line of reality ended and fancy began? But the tales were exciting and gave the laymen hope. 

Which, of course, the lords such as her father did not care for one bit. They worried over any sort of incitements among the lower class. The nobles welcomed and encouraged the sheriff’s harsh dealings with the common folk. 

Gemma had found this both despicable and cowardly. And when Rumlow’s power grew as great as their own, she had no sympathy. Her parents buried their heads in the sand, worried solely about their status. There was nothing she, a mere girl, could do but sit by and watch The Selwyns kowtow to the devil. 

Perhaps, partly to spite her father, Gemma had taken the Robin Hood stories to heart. Whenever there was opportunity, she would sneak a loaf of bread, or a brace of meat if possible, to the poverty-stricken tenants. She knew it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than sitting idly by.

Hearing one of Robin Hood's party continue to snicker struck as an insult. Especially since they had received such impertinent manhandling.

Gemma complained, “What, pray tell, is so funny?” Quite put out, she proceeded to tidy her hair then right her woolen dress already frayed and torn at the hem. 

The culprit removed his hood, revealing himself. Handsome. Closely shorn dark hair and mirthful brown eyes. He put a hand to his chest. “Sam. Samuel Wilson. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a bow.

His hands were put up in surrender when he began to advance. “If you please, milady. I merely wish to aid my friend whom you seem to have bested.” He offered a hand to the prostrated man who had begun to come around. “My wounded associate, here, is James Barnes.” 

Her assailant sat upright. She stepped back further out of his reach just to be safe. He removed his own hood then continued to unfurl to his full height. “I assure you; the sole injury has been to my pride.” He turned to face Gemma and bowed as well, eyes never leaving hers. 

She noted the striking blue set off by overgrown dark locks which had fallen into his face. Despite the cool, icy color, there was an inexplicable warmth to his eyes.

“Why do you look at me so?” she asked. 

There was a hint of mischief in his voice. “I would not care to yet again be caught off guard.” 

“We thought you meant us harm.” 

“I am sorry,” he said, sincerely. “There wasn’t time for proper introductions.” 

“Under the circumstances, I suppose you are right,” she begrudgingly capitulated. 

“And might I know the name of my worthy adversary?” 

“I’m Gemma. This is Marian.” 

“I’m her maid,” the woman added. 

"Surely, we are no longer in need of such formalities, Marian. We are equals out here. You are under no obligation to me.” 

“Bless you dear, but where are we to go from here?” 

In truth, Gemma had no idea. Her main concern had been to get away while she could. Turning to the men, she said, “We beseech your assistance seeking refuge in these woods.” 

“Why were the two of you riding in Rumlow’s wagon and why did you run?” Sam asked. 

Between the two women, the entire story was laid out. James could not help but shudder at the thought of anyone marrying Rumlow, let alone a seemingly innocent maiden forced into it. At that, a lovely one he found himself immediately attracted to. In his experience, nobility tended to be smug and rather dull. This girl was anything but. Beyond being taken in by her beauty, he was enraptured by every utterance and gesture she made. If she was always so animated, he could watch her talk all day. 

An elbow to the ribs startled James out of his thoughts. His counterpart smirked, knowingly, and pulled him aside to confer. “This could be a trap,” Sam worried. 

“You’re being paranoid.” 

“Paranoia has saved my hide too many times to count. What if they are spies sent to find our camp then report back to the sheriff?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously, they know nothing of the forest. They had no idea we were here until we came upon them.” 

“I still don’t like it and fear you are swayed by pretty faces over reason.” 

“So, you noticed they are comely too?” 

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Sam walked back to girls and said, “We will be happy to escort you back, ladies.” 

At that, Gemma planted her bottom on the trunk of a fallen tree and crossed her arms. “I’m not going back. I’d rather die out here alone than be forced to wed that awful brute.”

The mere thought, as well as the abatement of adrenaline, brought her to tears. She hid her face in her hands and wept. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” James muttered. 

Marian put her arms around her friend in consolation. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves. Here it’s told you aid those in need, yet you turn away helpless females.” 

“Quite right, miss,” James said. “Forgive him. He only means to do what’s best. Our camp is about a mile from here. You are welcome to come with us. We can offer you food and shelter until you can make more appropriate plans.” Noting her suspicious expression, he added, “We are all honorable, I can assure you, and other women are there as well.” 

“How do we know you tell the truth?” 

“I give you my word.” 

“Your word is meaningless to me.” 

“Marian!” Gemma exclaimed, astounded at her boldness. 

“No. She is quite right to be wary given your situation. Unfortunately, if you will not return home, the only other choice you have is to fend for yourselves.” 

Looking from one to the other, both men exuded concern and kindness. “I trust them,” Gemma declared. 

The blue-eyed man grinned widely and extended his gloved hand.

“I am at your service, ma’am.” 

Returning the smile, she graciously accepted the assistance and stood. “Please, lead the way,” she said. 

As Marian began following after, Sam asked, “You’ll be joining us too, then?” 

“What choice do I have? Someone needs to watch over her before she gets into more trouble.” 

“I know exactly how you feel,” he replied. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemma and Marian are taken to the campsite and introduced to the others.

Gemma had spent the previous day at home keeping to herself, fretting over the impending betrothal. Hour upon hour had passed trying to distract herself with long walks or embroidery. That is, when she hadn’t been crying in despair.

She admonished herself for not having devised a better escape plan. But, truly, there had been no acceptable way out of her predicament. Had she been of right mind, she and Marian could be in the safety of the castle where other options might have presented themselves. Instead, sheer panic had driven her to flee. Praying for the good Lord to protect them, she gave thanks for Marian’s fidelity and hoped the men they entrusted were as honorable as they claimed. 

The outlaws had taken the lead. They bantered between themselves in low tones. Gemma could not make out a word they were saying. Especially, since Marian also continued to chatter. Sam seemed rather animated and Gemma guessed he still harbored reservations about taking them along.

Had their words been discernable, she would have been surprised to hear quite a different conversation. For Sam was, in reality, teasing James about his obvious interest in a certain young maiden. 

“Admit that you like her,” he taunted. 

“She is pleasing to the eye.” 

“Oh, no. That look is more. Much more. You are smitten.” 

With an expression of distain, James renounced the assertion. “Don’t be a fool. She’s probably a silly girl and won’t even last the night out here. Wouldn’t surprise me if she begs us to take her back home by morning.” 

Unaware of this discourse, the girls continued to follow carefully behind, linked at the arm. Gemma took the occasion to finally take proper stock of the pair. James was a bit taller than Sam, but both were broad shouldered. Each man carried similar equipment. Quivers of arrows were slung over their backs along with large bows. The strings of these crossed their torsos in the front. By each man’s hip was a sheathed dagger. 

Beneath the hooded cowls, they wore similar leather vests overtop homespun wool and linen which did little to hide the bulk of their muscles. Shod in boots of leather that had seen better days, their powerful legs made easy work of the trek. 

Marian had apparently been thinking along the same vein, remarking how much she was enjoying the view from behind. Regardless of dealing out playful admonishments, Gemma had to admit similar stirrings. A bit ashamed of herself, she did her best to hide her embarrassment. 

She couldn’t remember having before been so instantly enamored by someone. Despite his disheveled appearance, James was the most handsome fellow she’d ever seen. Her mind’s eye kept replaying the instant his striking eyes met hers. Follow that with quite the disarming smile. She hadn’t even had time to recover from the ordeal of running and being apprehended. How unfair to then be faced with such a good-looking man. And to be caught in such an unruly state herself. These were not the types of positions in which ladies of her stature had any experience. The ordeal had been far too stimulating. That was all it was. Dismissing her notions as a hysterical response, she concentrated on keeping up with their guides. 

Even with their size and gear, the outlaws tramped easily and gracefully over the rugged terrain. They moved confidently between the trees, without any visible path, only hesitating to ensure the ladies weren’t having difficulties. The course they were taking was somewhat challenging, but nothing either woman couldn’t handle. Gemma did wish they would slow so she could better take in the beautiful scenery but she refrained from saying so, afraid to disoblige their escorts.

When she looked up, there were, on occasion, trees that seemed to reach right up to the heavens. In other areas, the canopy above was so thick, much of the sun’s light was blocked down below. Surely, they couldn’t have left home less than two hours prior. However, events unfolding so quickly and the dim light of the forest left Gemma disoriented. 

Soon enough, she heard the rush of the water nearby. They came out of the timberline and onto the craggy shore. This was an area where the river ran shallow over an expanse of rocks that provided an easy crossing. The men stopped and turned.

James warned, “Mind. The rocks can be slippery,” offering his hand to Gemma. Her fingers slid onto the gloved palm. His firm grip was reassuring and again, he smiled. She couldn’t help but return it. 

He continued to hold on until they had successfully scaled the steep embankment on the other side. A brief sense of loss hit her as she pulled her hand away. Something made her think he would’ve been happy to have continued the jointure, but there was no longer any reasonable excuse. 

Once she was able to catch enough breath from her exertions, Gemma said to James, “I fear you have me at a disadvantage.” 

“How is that?” 

“You know how we found ourselves here. We have yet to learn about you.” 

Another of his already infamous smiles flashed. “In good time. But now, we are here.” 

They veered around an outcrop of sizeable rocks and boulders behind which the camp came into sight. What Gemma and Marian witnessed was nothing like either had imagined. Rumors had made it sound as if an entire village had been established in the forest. In front of them was a small clearing with a handful of people and fewer horses. Nestled among the surrounding trees, stood three sole shelters complete with roofs and chimneys made from nothing more than sticks, leaves and clay. Ratty canvas served to cover the small windows and doors. Between two silver birches was a lean-to which protected a small store of weapons and other supplies. 

The site’s center was occupied by a large fire pit around which a small group worked. The young man, introduced as Clint, was assisted by two women, Nat and Peggy. They were also similarly appareled in the woodland garb. 

Marian whispered to her friend, “Women dressed as men. Would you look at that?” 

With the guests’ arrival, the trio temporarily froze in place, undeniably wary about the strangers. Sam had begun to explain the situation when, in the middle of the discussion, a very large blond man emerged from one of the huts. When he stood to full height, he was even taller than James. Squaring his shoulders, his chest expanded to almost unbelievable proportions. 

“That’s him,” Marian said. “Robin Hood.” 

“My name is Steven,” he laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, but there is no such person.” 

She whipped her head around to Sam and said, “You told me the two of you were Robin Hood’s men.” 

“I never said that.” 

Steven went on to explain that there wasn’t solely one person causing all the sheriff’s troubles. There were multiple factions living in the woods, including a small band of Vikings.

“Once the Robin Hood myth started, we and our many allies in and around the village simply kept it going. Rumlow not knowing exactly who he’s looking for serves us well.” 

The mention of the sheriff’s name brought Gemma back to reality. She looked around at their makeshift hamlet and realized living as a fugitive had its complications.

“I certainly don’t want to be an additional burden for any of you. Perhaps it would be best if we were taken back after all. Maybe I can throw myself at my father’s mercy.” 

“No!” James hadn’t realized he had spoken, let alone so forcefully, before everyone’s eyes snapped towards him. Reddening, he explained, “I mean that Rumlow will not stop until he is satisfied. Furthermore, he’ll be embarrassed. Doesn’t take too kindly to that.” 

“He is right,” Steven said. “Likely, he will send out a search party as soon as receiving word of your disappearance. You’re safer here for now. Do you have family elsewhere that might be sympathetic to your plight? Perhaps we could help you make your way to them.” 

“There is no one. I confess to not having thought this through. My sincerest apologies. I fear having needlessly put you all at risk.” 

“There is no need to worry about that. If Rumlow could find us, he would have done so long ago.” 

Peggy added, “As long as you’re willing to pull your weight we’re happy to have you join us.” The maid looked hardy enough, but she worried over the girl with soft, delicate hands. 

“Of course,” Gemma agreed. “You will need to teach me, I’m sure. But I am a willing pupil.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear. The first thing we’ll need to see to is sleeping arrangements. You’ll have to bunk with Nat and I tonight. We will start putting together some bedding for you while the others build you a shelter. If you’ll come with me, we need to start gathering materials.” Peggy continued to give out orders, setting everyone to work. 

With everyone else hurrying off to their assigned tasks, she hustled Gemma and Marian into one of the huts. In addition to a modest fireplace, in the back were raised platforms against either side wall serving as beds. Underneath each was a sword, bow, quiver full of arrows and various small baskets. From one of these containers, Peggy dug out a pair of shears and a small box holding various needles and thread. 

“Are we going to sew our own bedding?” Marian asked. 

“No,” Peggy answered. “Clint will get that easily enough from one of our benefactors. Your dresses are already the worse for wear. It’s best to alter them.” 

“You expect us to wear trousers?” the former maid balked. 

“I don’t expect anything. As you can see, your skirts are already muddied and torn. They’ll just be a hindrance out here." 

Taking a seat next to Peggy, Gemma said, “Come on, Marian. When in Rome.” 

Rolling her eyes, she sat and said, “I’ll not leave English soil, Gem. That’s where I draw the line.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to get a visual of the type of huts described in this chapter, check out https://www.hebrewliving.com/videos/primitive-survival-shelters-how-to-build-a-hut-in-the-woods/ .


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls are told a fascinating story. The day of excitement comes to an end.

Peggy directed them to sit on one of the beds. The drapes to the window and door had been closed so that the girls could remove their dresses. She then lit a fire as well as a few candles to work by. The scene reminded Gemma of long winters where she and Marian would similarly while away the hours with their needle crafts. The small space of the makeshift domicile they shared was more cramped than cozy, but the domestic scene was comforting. 

Carefully cutting up their frocks, the needles were double-threaded and they drew the edges of fabric together as required. Using expert back stitching in order to provide extra support for the seams, they applied themselves earnestly. 

“Now that that’s underway,” Peggy addressed Gemma, “I am very curious as to what made you run.” 

“As we explained earlier, I just couldn’t marry Brock.” 

“Yes, I understand that. What I mean is, what compelled you to do it? Most women resign themselves to their arranged marriages for better or worse.” 

“I don’t know exactly.” She thought a moment then replied, “When I said I would rather die, it wasn’t hyperbole. Maybe it was all the stories of dissent going around.” 

Marian interrupted with a snort. “You have always been a bit headstrong, Gem. You can’t deny that.” 

“Be that as it may,” she allowed, “I think there are some basic rights that should be afforded to all people. I would like to have some say in my own destiny.” 

“Good for you,” Peggy commended, realizing she might have uncharacteristically underestimated the girl. “I, myself, think England would be much better off with a woman on the throne.” 

Marian scoffed, “Like that could ever happen.” 

“Mark my words. It may not happen in our lifetime, but it will happen. In the meantime, we must strive to take control over our own lives best we can.” 

The words heartened the young maiden who had been doubting the practicality of her recent actions. Peggy didn’t seem to be much older than they, but there was a maturity and self-confidence about her that Gemma respected and aspired to. Recalling how the others had readily responded to the woman giving orders, she wanted to learn more about the peculiar little company. 

“How did you all find each other out here?” she wondered. While the other two ladies concentrated on the task at hand, Peggy narrated the story. 

“Steven and James grew up together; both the Rogers and Barnes families having been tenants of Lord Batroc’s. When Nicholas began conscripting men to support his campaign in the Holy Land, they were knighted and sent to serve in the king’s army. At some point, while they were away, the prince had Rumlow seize Batroc’s holding and installed Sir Gideon Mallick as manager of the estate. The peasants have been taxed so heavily there's hardly anything left to survive on. By the time Steven and James made their way home, their families were gone. Steven’s parents had died of illness. James’ family fled like many others. Speaking with those who were left, this is when they learned about folks taking refuge in the forest.” 

“I cannot imagine how heartbroken they both must be.” 

“They only had each other left. James was of a mind to try to find his kin, but no one could say for sure where they’d gone. Steven convinced him it would be best to start the search by visiting neighboring villages. In the meantime, they needed a place to stay. There are still good people at Batroc who offered to help, but seeing their burdens, the boys would not add to them. They were more than familiar with living in rough conditions, and thus, made for Sherwood. 

“A few weeks later, they happened upon the other three fishing by the river. Both Cint and Nat had been part of a traveling troupe that had come to town about a month prior. He was known as ‘Hawkeye, the world’s finest archer’, and she as ‘Black Widow, acrobat extraordinaire’. A day after their arrival, there was to be a hanging in the square. That is when they first saw Sam. Clint asked a bystander what the accused’s crime was. The answer was stealing bread. Imagine facing execution over a bit of flour and water! It wasn’t even for himself. The sheriff made a grand production of it to use the poor man as an example. Clint could not abide by the unjust cruelty. The moment the rope pulled taught, he shot an arrow from over a hundred yards away, splitting it clean through. The crowd went wild. Some were outraged. Others thrilled. All hell broke loose in the courtyard. In the confusion, Clint and Nat caught up with Sam and helped him out of the castle. Naturally, they headed for the nearest place where they could disappear. In the meantime, the rest of the performers’ caravan scarpered down the road fast as they could. 

“Once the groups met and swapped stories, Steven persuaded everyone it was best to combine resources. None of them could rest easy knowing others continued to suffer at Rumlow’s hands and decided something had to be done.” 

“And where did you come in?” Marian asked. 

“I was working in the castle’s kitchen. Daily, I saw how well the sheriff, his men and friends were eating their fill while the rest of us starved. When I started hearing the Robin Hood stories over and over, I felt compelled to do my part. One night, I packed a bag with some bread and cheese, grabbed a knife and snuck away. Never looked back. 

“I had been on my own for four days. A few miles south of here. Hadn’t heard a single sight nor sound of human. Early one morning, I was bathing in the river. Thought it had been secluded enough, but suddenly, from nowhere was this great, hulking man sitting up in a tree calling out to me. ‘How's the water today?’ he asked. I thought him unbelievably handsome, but he had the most impertinent, cheeky smile on his face. ‘Why don’t you come and find out?’ I answered.” 

“You never!” Gemma squealed. Marian’s jaw dropped open wide. 

“I did. Honestly, I’m still not quite sure what possessed me. The next thing I knew, he jumped down to the ground and began taking his boots off.” Both girls screeched in amused horror. “What do you think you’re doing?’ I yelled. With one shoe in hand, he answered, ‘I’m taking you up on your invitation, milady. I would hate to be rude.’ I just stared at him daring to continue. Then he did.” 

“Weren’t you frightened?” 

“At first, I was startled. Yes. But I really had no other option than to stand my ground, so to speak. Part of me reasoned, at that point I had nothing left to lose. The other part recognized there was something about him that, even in my compromised condition, I knew he would never hurt me. He kept a respectful distance the entire time and turned his back when I was ready to dress myself.” She added with a laugh, “I always thought love at first sight was just a fairy tale, yet here I am.” 

“So, you are a couple then?” Marian asked. “Why do you not simply leave Nottingham? Surely, the two of you could make a life elsewhere.” 

“We both feel a duty to help these people. We cannot ignore these injustices and abandon them. Once King Nicholas is restored to the throne, we will marry and then begin our lives together.” 

“And Clint and Nat, are they together?” 

“No. No. You’ll see. They are like brother and sister.” 

The project’s completion was signified by the hemming of cuffs and tying off of knots on the threads. Along with the measures of cord Peggy found for each girl to use as belts, they tried on their handiwork. Although, she didn’t find the pants at all flattering, Gemma was pleased with her accomplishment. 

Taking a look at the girls, Peggy said. “Not our finest work, I’m sure, but it will do for now. The sun is beginning its decent.” Upon closer inspection of them, she added, “Sadly, that material won’t last very long. We’ll go to the tanner tomorrow. See if he can spare us any leather. We need to get you some boots, anyway.” The girls looked down sadly at their damp, soiled slippers. 

The others were back at camp when they finally exited the hut. The sun had only started lowering in the sky. Steven, James and Clint had begun on building a shelter next to that of the other women. Sam was with Nat plucking at some small game birds. Turning to look at the approaching pair, he started to snicker, promptly receiving a kick to the shin from Marian. 

“Ignore his boorishness,” James said. “He is always jealous of anyone with beauty greater than his own. Which means, he is envious of everyone.” 

“Pshaw,” Sam answered. “My profile is as lovely as the noble falcon’s.” 

“Speaking of birdbrains,” Marian quipped, “what is it you got there?” 

“Clint shot some squab for our dinner tonight.” The former maid rolled up her sleeves and settled in to help prepare the meat. 

“What can I do?” Gemma asked. 

Nat said, “How about gathering some kindling. We’ll get the fire started soon.” 

“Easy enough.” She began picking up the nearest sticks she could find. 

“Those are too damp. You have to find dry ones.” 

“I’ll show you,” James stopped in the middle of mixing daub. 

“Your hands are covered in mud!” Peggy scoffed and gave a cursory, knowing look at Steve. He grinned, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head before returning his attention to securing wattle. Back at Gemma, Peggy kindly said, “Here. I’ll show you.” 

Once the fire was started, they put the meal together and set it to stew while the others went to the river to clean up. Gemma couldn’t remember ever having been so hungry before, her mouth watering at the thought of the simple dinner. 

The sun was nearly gone when they all sat around the fire together to eat. Steven and Peggy sat next to one another. Aside from that, the group separated themselves, men from women across the shallow pit from each other.

The newcomers found themselves having to repeat answers to questions for those who had previously missed out. Yet, they didn’t mind much as it also gave them the opportunity to ask more of their own questions. 

In those moments when she wasn’t being asked to speak, Gemma would often catch James looking at her. He would smile a little before looking away. She would feel heat rising to her face due to more than just the light of the fire. It made her feel abnormally bashful and she hoped he didn’t notice. 

He did. Little did she know that this man she thought to be so carefree and confident was not at all self-assured around attractive women. While he was pleased to see her reactions, James had no idea what to do about it. He inched himself closer to the fire so that it could be blamed for the blushes he felt in his cheeks. 

Dinner and tidying were no sooner done than both Gemma and Marian began having trouble keeping their eyes open. Peggy and Nat escorted them back into the hut. Although the platform beds were only meant for one apiece, they doubled up so no one would have to sleep on the cold ground. The accommodations were extremely tight and not very comfortable, but neither of the runaways had any trouble falling asleep that night. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Gemma has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene in this chapter takes inspiration from “Robin Hood: Prince if Thieves.”

**_That same evening_ **

Rarely did the fire continue to burn in the sheriff’s office during late evening hours. Seldom had Rumlow encountered any difficulty in obtaining that which he desired. Never had he so greatly miscalculated. He had wished to conduct the transaction personally, but when summoned by the prince, the would-be suitor had chosen to trust his men’s competence over the inconvenience of waiting. Obviously, that confidence had been misplaced. 

The driver and guard had returned with only a trunk holding the women's possessions. Worthless vestments and a few baubles which, presumably, belonged to Gemma. The box had been brought in when they arrived and forgotten when, in a rage, he’d had both men arrested. 

The sheriff, who had not bothered to change out of his preferred monochrome uniform, paced nervously back and forth in front of the stone fireplace ruminating  over the story as had been explained by the carriage guard. It didn’t make any sense. Noblewomen were not known to throw themselves into peril. It was akin to suicide. And her maid too? Preposterous. The more  Rumlow thought about it, the more likely it appeared they had fallen prey to some villainy.

The flames crackled and popped alongside his repetitious footsteps as he attempted to divert his eyes from the mocking container. Over and again he clenched and released his hands to exorcise the nervous energy. Finally, the awaited knock at the door came. 

“Come in!” he barked. His second in command, Jack Rollins, entered. Though they were not related, the deputy’s features were similar to those of his superior. Tall and brawny, he also wore a hardened, continually sour countenance. 

“Well? Well?” Rumlow impatiently pressed. 

“Both driver and guard insist they did no harm to the women, but we have them in the dungeon now. We should get to the truth after a few more hours without food or water,” Rollins answered calmly. Experience had taught him that whatever the sheriff’s mood might be, an even-tempered response was always the safest bet. 

“Fine. But what about Gemma?” 

“I’m sorry, sir. My men have interrogated everyone. I even checked to see if they had made it back to Selwyn Manor. No one has seen nor heard from them. They’ve vanished.” 

“Vanished? VANISHED?” the dissatisfied man screamed. He strode aggressively forward until nose nearly touched nose. To the deputy’s credit, he didn’t flinch, knowing the least sign of weakness would be his undoing.

“People, especially young women, do not just disappear. Something has happened to them and I mean to find out what and by whom.” Rumlow brought his right index finger up towards the other man’s face, growling. “And when I do, mark my words, I will end them.” 

“I suppose, in the morning we could...” 

“OUT!” He pointed towards the door. “I’ll do it myself. Make sure your men are ready for orders at a moment’s notice. Instruct the stable boy to ready one of the coursers. Immediately.”

Then he shouted, “And get this infernal chest out of my sight!” 

“Yes, sir,” Rollins said before taking a step back, grabbing the offending luggage and leaving the room. 

The pacing was resumed. Rumlow intended to allow for the time it would take to equip a ride. After only another minute, however, he decided to forego that plan and hurry things along. Crossing the room, he grabbed the long, black leather coat which hung on an iron hook by the door. Hastily shrugging into it, he went down the hall and out into the bailey towards the stables with long, purposeful strides. 

A large destrier, alerted to his master’s steps, was waiting by one of the gates. Rumlow stopped to stroke the silky, black nose.

He cooed, “Get your rest, my precious Crossbones. There’s no need to waste your talents on this lowly mission.” The steed snorted in seeming disappointment. 

The sheriff continued on to where the groom had already begun tacking up a smaller, mottled grey horse. What the mare lacked in strength and elegance, would be made up for in speed. There was no need for more since the journey would be brief. 

Minutes later, he mounted then readied himself while the portcullis was raised. Very few people, other than the guards, milled about the main courtyard. The few that did, looked with mild interest at the sheriff leaving the castle alone at that hour. 

The horse was coaxed into a reasonable trot across the drawbridge. On such a cloudy night, he did not want to risk an accident to either himself or his mount. He took a look behind him to ensure no one followed and turned towards Sherwood’s border. 

Within two miles, the mare was slowed to a walk breaking through the tree line. Hoping he had followed the right footpath, Rumlow sighed relief as a thatched rooftop came into view. The cottage was as uninviting as its owner. 

The gloomy, small abode had stood abandoned for years until taken over by a young widow seeking solitude. A foreigner to the country, Wanda Maximoff had been brought over as a new bride. Weeks after their arrival, her husband was stricken with an unknown malady. Using a variety of remedies from her homeland as well as the aid of other healers, she was able to improve his condition for short whiles. Eventually, however, nothing more could be done and he was gone twelve months later. After retreating from society, most of the citizens respectfully stayed away. This did not prevent them from calling upon her much needed skills when village doctors either could not be afforded or could not provide a cure. Although she never asked for any, the gifts of gratitude she was typically given helped sustain her seclusion. 

The hardhearted officer shivered before dismounting. Everything around him was a varying shade of grey. Surrounding trees made it even harder to see in the dark, save for the faint candlelight from within. As Rumlow tethered his ride, the door was opened. “I suppose you knew I was coming.” 

“You carry a distinctive aura.” The carefully articulated words, heavily accented by her unfamiliar tongue, unsettled him further. 

“I need to locate someone.” He steeled himself then handed her a silver coin whilst barging into the home. “My betrothed. Gemma Selwyn. She is lost.” 

He sat beside the one small table, telling the story and waiting as she lit a few extra candles to see by. Then her divining tools were collected: a pewter plate, a sharp knife and a strip of linen. She took a seat across from him and instructed, “Give me your right hand.” 

Taking the knife, she slit his palm. “Damn it, woman! Is this really necessary?”

She ignored him and turned his palm over, allowing the blood to drip onto the plate. When she was satisfied, she handed him the cloth in order to bind his hand. Words of an incantation recited in a language he had never heard before, flowed from her mouth. Without realizing, Brock began leaning forward, trying to read her face. He’d had no warning before both her hands slapped against the table and she looked up at him. 

“Christ!” he shouted, nearly falling out of his chair in surprise. “Did you see her? Do you know where she is?” 

In addition to putting on a show of pretense, she knew the quickest way to get rid of him was to offer partial truths. “She’s with Robin Hood.” 

He screamed unintelligibly, knocking over the chair as he stood. “Damn his hide!” He kicked at the prostrate piece of furniture. “Where? Where is he?” 

She sat unmoved. “He is everywhere.” 

“What does that even mean? Did you at least get a good look at him?” 

“He is at one with the forest.” 

“For a witch, you’re about as much use as tits on a bull. How does she fare?” 

"The girl is in no danger. You, on the other hand.” 

“What? What did you see?” 

“He will crush you.” 

“That is absolute nonsense. I have an armed force; the backing of the prince. A lowly brigand doesn’t frighten me.”

He left, continuing to puff dejectedly and angrier than ever. Watching him ride back off towards the castle, Wanda resolved to find Peggy in the morning. 

* * *

The day began to break with sounds of life. Squirrels raced between branches. Songbirds tested their voices high up in the trees. The outlaws slowly came to wake. 

There was a light fog, low to the ground. Gemma stepped out from the hut and looked at the beauty of the ethereal mist lit by the sunlight breaking through the foliage. A rustling of canvas to her right caught her attention. She looked to see James duck out. 

“Good morning,” he said, pulling on his signature gloves. Attempting to hide a rush of childish giddiness which threatened to bubble over, he managed a restrained smile. 

“Good morning,” she replied, doing her best to tidy her hair. They stood gaping at each other until suddenly, James stumbled forward, nearly knocking her over. Instinctively, his hands latched onto her upper arms for support. 

Steve laughed as he lumbered from behind, pushing his way past the opening. “Out of my way, knave.” 

Mortified, James straightened himself. “I’m so sorry.” 

“No harm done.” Gemma giggled. “It seems I have a bad habit of falling into your clutches.” A look of confusion crossed his face. Looking down at his gloved hands, she said, “You may let go now.” 

He did so, cheeks turning pink. “Yes. Sorry.” 

They were again interrupted by Marian shouting, “Crikey! Where’d you come from?” A beautiful young woman with flowing, dark-red hair had appeared from seemingly nowhere. 

Peggy greeted her, then explained, “Wanda is a friend. She’s a gifted healer.” 

“Are you a witch?” 

“There is no such thing. I can read people,” Wanda admitted, “but I do not cast spells or curses.” 

“So, a good witch?” Taking note of the irritation that came over the visitor’s face, Marian decided it was best to find cover. The closest person to hand was Sam, whom she ducked behind, making the sign of the cross over her chest for good measure. 

Wanda went about the business of informing them of Rumlow’s visit the previous night. “I did what I could, but he’ll be organizing a search party by now.” 

“I’ve never done a single thing to encourage that man. I don’t understand why he can’t just leave me be,” Gemma complained. 

“When Rumlow wants something, he’s like a terrier after a rat,” Clint said. When he realized the implication of this, he backtracked. “Oh! Not that you’re any kind of pest.” 

Nat glared at him and warned, “Time to shut up, Barton.”

He did. 

“It’s alright. I know what you mean,” Gemma excused. Still, the comment reminded her that she was a burden. Her anxiety visibly increased knowing that not only was she in trouble, but so was everyone around her. 

“You have nothing to fear,” Peggy said, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “You are among friends here. We will protect you.” 

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have to.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Steven agreed. “But that is not your fault. He’s a rotten bastard who can’t take a hint.” 

“If I go to him, at least he would call off the search...” 

“No!” James interjected. 

“He’s right,” Peggy agreed, despite throwing a curious look. “It wouldn’t solve anything. We’ve outsmarted him this long. We will continue to do so. The matter is closed.” With a clap of her hands to punctuate the point, she added, “Now, I believe we all have various chores to attend to. Let’s get moving.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Sam learn some important news.

The corner of the castle held a room on the third story inside which the metallurgist worked diligently. The morning brought with it a light breeze through the wooden shutters which had remained open throughout the night in order to allow the escape of noxious fumes. Stone walls and planked flooring were left bare, having long ago destroyed various rugs and tapestries by various accidents, in contrast to the long, rough table that remained in a perpetual state of controlled chaos.

Bruce Banner barely registered the chill that had overtaken the space as a result of the neglected fireplace. He had foregone an evening meal in favor of his recent discovery, so forced a few bites of bread and fruit while he waited for the latest test sample to cool. Calf muscle threatening to cramp, his weary foot pumped repeatedly at the pedal working the jerry-rigged fanning mechanism to expedite its progress. The sleep he had also missed in order to recreate his findings would be made up for later. Now, there was an important message to deliver.

It was working. The method worked. But he needed to try it on a larger scale. 

He extinguished the various flames burning atop the cluttered workspace and secreted a handful of silvery scraps in one pocket before locking up the laboratory. Someday, he vowed for the thousandth time, he would organize the mess of vials, tins and tools of his trade, but not today. Today, there were more important matters at stake. Taking the steps down to ground level, he made his way through the castle halls out towards the eastern bailey. 

Born and raised into the family business, Anthony Stark was a talented blacksmith who grew up in the business and had inherited his father’s shop. A sympathizer to the rebel cause, it was simple enough to augment the castle’s cache of small weapons undetected and redistribute the surplus.

He worked closely with the extraordinarily learned scientist who had served in the Holy Land and brought home new techniques and ideas. Together, this highly skilled duo not only supplied the castle with their needs for tools, weapons and armor, but also secretly helped keep the rebels armed. They served, too, as valuable informants on the sheriff’s comings and goings.

When Banner reached the smithy, he saw Stark’s attention was already taken. He nodded in greeting at the familiar sight of James and Sam who remained mostly concealed by their hoods. 

When he could be sure no one was looking, Anthony handed a small bag containing arrowheads to each of the men. “Tell Barton to be a little more discerning, will you? Yours is not the only bunch we supply, you know.” 

"We’ll do our best,” Sam promised. 

“If he can fell another boar for my family, we’ll call it even. I also have some news. The sheriff is ramping up his hunt for Robin Hood.” 

“Tell us something we don’t know.” 

“It’s personal now. There is a bounty on Robin Hood’s head if brought in alive. Twenty pounds in silver coin. He’s accused of kidnapping two women, one of which was Rumlow’s fiancé.” Carefully scanning each set of eyes, he asked, “The pair of you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” 

Before he could open his mouth, Sam’s foot was quashed under James’, who said “Why should we know anything about that?” 

“The last place they were seen was Sherwood.” 

“It’s a big forest,” James said with a shrug. “But we’ll be sure to pass it on.” 

As the outlaws walked away, Banner declared, “They know something.” 

“Oh, they totally know something. They didn’t bother asking for names or descriptions. I just hope whatever they’re up to doesn’t buy more trouble than they already have.”

Stark moved to a pile of iron scrap to begin his work. “Did you have a particular reason for visiting this morning other than my witty repartee?” 

The bits of metal were produced and held towards him. “You know how I feel about being handed things,” Stark whined. 

“Look,” between both sets of Bruce’s thumbs and forefingers, the tiny sheets were gently flexed. Anthony then took one and tried driving a nail through with a hammer causing only a little dent. 

“I believe my new forging method will work for our project,” Bruce said. “It should give the steel additional flexibility while increasing its strength.” 

“With your metal and my machinery, I'm starting to believe we can actually pull this off. Imagine it. Peace in our time.” 

* * *

The broadcasted bounty was concerning. Faced with the prospect of enough money to feed a family for an entire year, even the most loyal of men wouldn’t think twice about turning in their friends. James worried little of this, though. His main concern was to keep the knowledge from Gemma. Should she hear of the new threat, he feared she would willing give herself over to Rumlow. The very thought turned his stomach. 

When they returned to camp, the two men passed the acquired ammunition onto Clint then went straight to Steven to talk about the latest development. They all agreed there was no need of Gemma to hear of it. Meanwhile, they would make plans to increase support efforts so the people would remember who really had their best interests at heart. 

Soon after the impromptu meeting broke apart, James heard arguing coming from the recently completed hut. The door flap was open so he took the liberty of peering inside and asked, “Is anything the matter?” 

The women momentarily silenced, staring each other down. He noticed they had obviously been on their own errands earlier, being clad in leather pants and soft boots lacing at the shin. 

“Don’t mind us,” Gemma huffed. “Marian is complaining again.” 

“I know the furnishings are not what you are used to. If there is anything you need, I'm sure we can figure something out.” 

Marian explained, “James, I am truly grateful for all you and your friends are doing. This whole situation, however, is completely unseemly for my lady.” 

The disagreement had started when she began griping about the linen short pants required to wear underneath the leather to prevent chafing. See, Marian felt they were on a slippery slope heading far beneath their given stations in life. She had always envisioned Gemma marrying a lord and running her own household one day. Then, of course, Marian would be her lady-in-waiting and they would thus live out their years happily together. She was afraid that Gemma’s recent actions would have seriously damaging repercussions in regards to both of their futures. 

She turned back to her friend, “I was hoping you would have regained your senses by now.” 

“If you think me mad, why do you stay then?” 

“Someone has to watch over you.” 

“I am not a child, Marian. I will not go back to that life. If you wish to do so, by all means.” Gemma watched her friend storm out in anger.

She then asked James, “Do you think I’ve lost my senses?” 

Gemma looked up at him with searching, doleful eyes. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and provide the reassurance she wanted but he simply answered, “No. Not at all. I think you’re very brave.” 

“Brave?” Her face fell, assuming he teased her. “Please don’t mock me. I attest this is not mere whimsy." 

“Gemma, I am in earnest,” he insisted. “Heroes aren’t people who don’t get scared. They are those who are frightened but do what they feel what is right, regardless.” 

“Thank you, James.” She gave him a smile that lit his heart on fire. “I will try to remember that.” 

Surreptitiously, he took a glance around to make sure no one was spying on them. "Perhaps this might brighten your mood a little.” He reached into the pouch carried on his left hip and pulled out a delicate purple crocus.

Feeling heat rise to his face again, he took a deep breath. Timid words came from the big, strong man. “I saw this and thought you might like it.” 

Gemma felt her breath escape and she consciously willed her hand to remain steady to gently take the token of affection. His gloved fingers lingered as long as would be acceptable before releasing the gift. There could be no mistaking the significance of the gesture.

She sniffed at the dainty petals and said with another shy smile, “My. I have to thank you, again. This does make me feel better. You have, indeed, lifted my mood.” 

As had become their habit, both James and Gemma stood smiling at each other, neither knowing what to say or do next. The uncomfortable silence was broken by Sam shouting.

“Dinner isn’t going to catch itself, Barnes,” they heard from afar. 

His right hand shooting to the nape of his neck in a gesture of discomfort, James said, “Until later, then.” 

She managed a slight nod and a barely audible, “Later,” as he reluctantly backed away. He turned to go, catching himself inelegantly as he tripped over his own feet. Gemma bit her lip to stifle the giggle which bubbled forth. When he looked back, blushing hotly, she pretended not to notice and offered a small wave in consolation to see him off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings between Gemma and James grow stronger despite the trouble afoot.

Throughout the night, Marian and Gemma had continued to be techy, one speaking to the other only when necessary. Providing single words or grunts as answers. Eventually, by the time they finally settled in for sleep, the former was resigned to the idea that she didn’t have the power to change the latter’s mind. 

Never would she have dreamed that someone would find pleasure in demeaning herself. Strangely, it was proving the longer her friend consorted with the outlaws, the more content she became. It was the most contrary thing Marian ever could have imagined. 

A deep sigh escaped as she glanced affectionately over to the opposite bed at the girl. She was basically the only family left to her. Gemma was in a world of her own, staring at something in her hand.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” 

“It’s a flower.” 

“There are lots of flowers around here, Gem. Why does this one warrant special attention?” 

“James gave it to me.” 

“What?” Marian nearly shouted, sitting up on one elbow, trying to focus through the dark at the wilting petals. 

“He told me he saw it and thought of me. Isn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?” 

"Oh, Gemma. Please. No. You can’t. He’s beneath you.” 

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she scolded. “We are all equal in the eyes of the Lord.” 

“The Lord, yes. Society, not so much. Why are you so hell bent on destroying your place in it?” 

Across the short distance between them, Gemma mimicked the other woman’s prone posture. “For one thing, I do not want to marry a man for no other reasons than social status or security. I would like a husband who sees me as his companion. Who not only holds affection for me, but values my thoughts and opinions. I want to be more than property, treated like an ornament or a breeding mare.” 

“How in the world do you propose to do that?” 

“I don’t know. It’s only been two days. But everyone here is treated as equals. Why should we accept anything less from now on?” 

Gemma lay back down and relaxed, focusing again on the flower as she spun the short stem between her fingers. She recalled his eyes when he presented it to her. So vulnerable and tender.

With another longing sigh, she added, “Marian, I wish you had seen his face. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. Not to mention how gentle and kind he is. And--” 

“Alright. I yield. Please spare me the treatise on the magnificent James Buchanan Barnes.” The ladies broke out into a fit of giggles. “Gem, truly, you know you’re like a sister to me. All I want is for you to be happy, but I worry. You know nothing of the cruelties of this world.” 

“My life has been sheltered, I’ll admit. But that’s why I want to do this. Need to. How can I experience joy if I’ve never endured hardship? I don’t want to be insulated from life. I want to live it.” 

* * *

The girls abruptly awoke to a call of, “Up, up, ladies.” Much of the interior of the hut was still in shadow, but a bit of the morning’s glow from behind her outlined the unmistakable figure of Peggy crouching through the entrance. Even before she said more, her stance conveyed urgency. 

“What’s going on?” Gemma asked, pulling on her leather pants and gathering her boots. The remaining chill in the air prompted haste in conjunction with the command of Peggy’s tone, the grave nature of which belied the seriousness of whatever they would be facing. Gemma’s stomach sank, questioning if she would be up to the challenge. 

“It’s all hands on deck. The game warden just left us. Danvers cautions there is a good probability at least one of the foresters may be spying for the sheriff now. If evidence is found, whomever it is will be dealt with. Until then we need to be extra diligent. But, of immediate import, the network says there will be a tax collection at Langton today.” 

The trio left the shelter to join the others sitting in their customary circle. Steven was drawing lines through the fire pit ash which had been smoothed to map out the estate. Collections were always held at the main barn. Since the weather was fair, the sheriff’s men would set up outside, making the rebels’ offensive much easier. 

Gemma asked, “What can Marian and I do.” 

“You two are the distraction, Steven said. 

“No.” The usual cry came from the usual blue-eyed, brown-haired protester. 

“Steven,” Peggy urged. “They can’t be seen. Even if no one turned them in, the sheriff would surely hear. That could have devastating repercussions for Langton.” 

“I don’t want to stay behind. I want to do my part,” Gemma insisted. 

“We know, dear, but it’s too risky. For everyone involved. But, you’re right, we can’t leave you behind either. It wouldn’t be safe to leave the two of you here alone.” 

The rejected girl nodded, fighting back tears of frustration, putting James in awe at the duality of her nature. Of course, the other women in camp were tough as well, but he wouldn't characterize them as sweet-tempered. Whereas he knew that many of the daughters of nobility were literally trained to catch a man’s eye, he had not seen such behavior from Gemma. Instead, this young lady had a sincere compassion and generosity of spirit that was all her own. He would hate to see that side of her ever change. 

A slight alteration to the plan was made, then everyone prepared to go. As they were wont to do, Steven and Sam had started chattering the entire time and maintained a steady jabber during the entire trek. James had tuned them out long ago, worried that Gemma remained unnaturally silent, discernibly begrudging the fact that she would be sidelined. 

While he had never been in the exact same circumstance himself, James understood, in part, what she was feeling. Being excluded never felt good, whatever the reason. It didn’t matter whether that reasoning was logical or agreed with. It still rankled. And from the little he had learned of her past, she had tired of the limitations imposed on her due solely to gender. It was plain that Gemma was no longer willing to stand by in quiet acquiescence. Although Peggy certainly encouraged this philosophy, it wasn’t something for which she’d needed convincing. Miss Selwyn had very definite opinions of her own. Meeting people with similar ideas simply reinforced them.

So, James could sympathize with her upset over not being able to take part in something that she firmly believed in. Especially, when her friends were at risk. 

That, in itself, was another thought that gave him pause. Gemma had met them only days ago, and under inauspicious circumstances. Yet, she treated each of them as if they’d been friends for eons. Marian was considerably more guarded, as would be expected. Remembering when he and Steven had decided to join with the others, it had taken weeks for them to earn each other's complete trust. In addition to her open mind, Gemma apparently also had an open heart. 

The feeling of warmth that washed over him, a seemingly regular occurrence around her, was unexpectedly interrupted. From the back of James’ mind came a conscious reminder that even the most accepting of women had their limitations. He had already let things go farther than they should. 

* * *

It was late morning by the time the band arrived at Langton. From his position in the barn’s hayloft along with Nat, James could just make out Clint perched high in a tree about twenty yards across the way. Unless someone knew what to look for, Hawkeye was perfectly camouflaged. 

James couldn’t see her, but knew Peggy was below, as directed, shielded behind the open barn door. Their elevated vantage point offered him and Nat a good aerial view of the surrounding area where he could see the hooded heads of Sam, in the shadow between two nearby houses, and Steven, shielded by a large pile of hay. 

The redhead wasn’t much of a talker under the most relaxed situations. Busy with the business of staying alert, she had even less to say. James’ mind drifted over to the girl waiting in the woods. She and Marian would be safe with Clint not far off, but he wouldn’t be able to protect them against Gemma’s sense of self-sacrifice should she decide to take action. 

He sent up a silent prayer, despite having lost his faith months back. _Please grant her patience today._

A sudden movement from Nat broke James from his thoughts. She covered the lower part of her face, prompting him to take a proper look at the road. Around the bend in the distance, he spotted the dark forms of a caravan. Pulling up his own mask, he and his partner took positions on either side of the opened shutters. 

As they neared, James took stock of the two lead guards clad in black and grey. Helmeted and draped in mail, they were followed by the tax cart which, in turn, was flanked by another matched pair of guards. They all pulled up in front of the barn wondering why there was only a handful of peasants about, going about their chores and barely paying them any mind. The collection agent stood to announce the proceeding’s start when the first arrow was let loose. 

Only Hawkeye could have made the shot that struck the cart directly at the collector’s feet. The rest were shot near enough to their marks to put them at a standstill.

The guards went for their swords but were interrupted by Steven shouting, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He moved around the bale, keeping his readied bow trained on one of the guards. Sam and Peggy followed suit as James and Nat descended from the loft, meeting them below to keep the sheriff’s men contained. 

From the corner of his eye, James saw movement in the woods and feared it could be an unexpected set of guards, or worse, Gemma. He wouldn’t put it past her to want to see what was happening.  Were she to be spotted and recognized - if  Rumlow even caught a rumor that she had been nearby - there would be nothing any of them could  do. While his arms locked on their target, his eyes wandered, desperate to learn whether or not his fear was unfounded. By the time the shape revealed itself to be a stag, he was shoved firmly in the shoulder by Peggy.

“Snap out of it,” she growled.

Realizing, then, that his diverted attention could have had serious consequences, he muttered, “Sorry,” and corrected himself.

He, along with Steven and Peggy kept their arrows aimed while the rest collected the guards’ swords. Once they were completely disarmed, those men, driver and tax agent were forced to dismount and climb onto the open cart, then bound. The abandoned horses were tethered to the rear. Steven and Sam climbed into the cart, carrying swords with them. Peggy assumed the driver’s seat, took the reins in hand and led the procession down the King’s Road to the castle as the people of Langton came around to clap and cheer at their triumph. 

When the others joined back up with the girls, James saw that Gemma’s face held the telltale hallmarks of a recent crying bout. He hoped that her frustrations wouldn’t turn into a resentment of them all. 

He had no way of knowing what had really occurred. The hidden pair could hear very little and see none of the events as they played out. Imagining all the things that could go wrong with the plan, Gemma had panicked that one of them would get hurt or worse. If that person happened to be James, she didn’t know what she would have done. When the outlaws returned into the woods, her tension had been released in a flood of tears. It was in that moment she realized her feelings for James went far beyond a mere attraction. For the first time in her life, Gemma suspected she was falling in love.

* * *

The cart was stopped less than a mile from the drawbridge. The outlaws dismounted, and the tax collector cried, “You can’t just leave us here. At least untie us.” 

Steven said, “I’m sure someone will come looking for you soon enough. When they do, be sure to tell Rumlow that Robin Hood sends his regards.” He bowed deeply, with a flourish to add insult to injury. 

Sam whispered to Peggy, “Why is he always so dramatic?” 

The three heroes turned their backs and ran into the forest. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discovery during an impromtu celebration. Steven confronts James.

Clouds had rolled in during the hike back to base and continued to linger overhead after nightfall. Down below, the muted, hazy moonlight did little to illuminate the gloomy forest. This was of no concern to the eight compatriots enjoying the evening’s fire as they cheerily finished off the humble feast provided by courtesy of Langton. The relieved peoples had been so grateful, they would not see the rebels leave without a reward. Though it was but a few baskets full of what foodstuffs could be spared, it amounted to a banquet in the gang’s estimation. 

A flagon of mead, a particularly rare treat, had been passed around the circle at regular intervals, putting each of them in a jovial mood and ready to purge the tensions of the day. The meal exhausted without a scrap gone to waste, Natasha and Clint decided to display a few of their talents for everyone’s entertainment. The redhead darted off to her hut and returned with a special set of small knives. She dazzled everyone with her artful throwing skills, ending with the use of a willing Steven as an obstacle. 

While all the attention was on the maven’s remarkable proficiency, Clint briefly snuck off, returning with his lute. Once Nat’s performance was finished, he started with a few simple, popular songs that everyone could sing together. Soon, requests were made for something rousing to befit their lifted spirits. Clint began to improvise a fast-paced tune inspiring the revelers to clap and dance along. 

The musician naturally needed a break before long, and Gemma thought this a good time to leave the warmth of the fire to refresh with some cooler air. However, she couldn’t find her usual companion. Marian would never go into the forest by herself, especially at night. But before raising any alarms unnecessarily, Gemma thought to conduct a cursory search starting with their hut. 

Seeing her looking about, James asked, “Is something wrong?” 

Furtively, she answered, “I'm worried where Marian could have gotten off to by herself.” 

“Surely she just needed some privacy. We’ve all had our fair share to drink.” 

“She would have asked one of us along in this dark (meaning the women, of course). I need to look for her.” 

“It’s best if you have company.” The phrase was delivered in a manner such as to imply his willingness to supply this accompaniment. 

She nodded in assent; James’ calm presence curtailing her nervousness. They turned away from the fire, first checking the shelters which were all empty. James suggested they next walk the perimeter of the camp beginning behind the constructions. Nothing could be seen other than the brush, so Gemma was rather surprised when James stopped and signaled her to be quiet. 

He took a few silent steps towards the thicket, listening hard. There was muttered discourse not far ahead. The words were unintelligible. Still, he was sure the noises he’d heard had been human speech. His insides roiled at the possibility that the sheriff’s posse had finally found them. 

He stepped back towards Gemma and motioned her to mimic his movements descending onto his knees behind the bushes. Well hidden by the darkness, they gingerly crawled forward so as not to be heard. Stopping when they could go no further, both strained to see through the shadows as they unconsciously pressed shoulders together in solidarity. 

Minutes passed that seemed like ages. The moon’s light finally broke through the cloud cover. Two figures stood by a stately oak. Gemma was startled at first, instantly recognizing the silhouette of the girl she’d grown up with pressed firmly against the tree trunk. Her braced arms were apparently the only things keeping her face from being raked against the rough bark. 

The other shape was that of a man forcefully pressing against Marian as she struggled. Resolved to rush to her aid, Gemma tried to get up from her position, but James roughly pulled her arm back down and held her in place. She glared at him. 

Before she could protest, he whispered, “Leave them be.” His voice was both strained and mirthful. He was stifling a laugh. 

Her confusion caused her to take another look. The man wasn’t an assailant after all. It was Sam and the two were in a very uncompromising position. Between the highlights and shadows, Gemma could barely make out both sets of skewed attire. The two bodies pushed to and from each other in a rhythmic fashion, sighs and whispers wafting through the air. 

Gemma sat back hard on her rump, covering her mouth with both hands to muffle the resulting gasp. James’ eyes snapped to the maiden’s in horror at her having seen the prurient act. He swiftly resumed his former crouched stance and grabbed her arm, pulling the innocent girl away quick as could be. Between two of the huts, Gemma forced him to stop. 

He was mortified. How was he to explain what their friends were doing? “Sam wasn't hurting her. He was...they were...” 

Gemma didn't know which was funnier. Catching Marian after being scolded about her own romantic feelings, or James’ thinking she had no knowledge of what was happening. “I’m not naïve,” she finally blurted out. “I do know what fornication is.” 

His eyelids flew open wider, the orbs nearly popping out of their sockets at her words. Shocked by her own boldness, she burst out laughing at his overly dramatic expression.

“I’m terribly sorry. I honestly don’t know what came over me.” She then suddenly realized he would mistakenly assume her knowledge came firsthand. “Not that I ever. I haven’t...I’ve been kissed before, but nothing like—“

Embarrassed further still, James started talking over her, “I didn’t think...you don’t have to tell me...”

The more she talked, the more he imagined the two of them in the other couple’s place. He began to feel very warm, thankful for the cloak of darkness as his pants became uncomfortably constricting. “Please, can we talk about something else? Anything else.” 

Seeing the look on his face go from astonishment to disquietude so quickly started Gemma giggling all over again. Relief washed over James and the pair stumbled back towards the others, laughing so hard they were holding their sides. 

“Are you two going to let us in on the fun?” Steven asked. 

Catching their breaths, Gemma and James debated over whether or not to share their discovery when Sam emerged from one side of camp and Marian the other. All scrutiny turned to them in turn. The abrupt elimination of voices was replaced by songs of frogs and crickets. Both perpetrators were completely disheveled, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. 

Sam nervously squeaked out, “What’s going on?” 

The rest of the group erupted in laughter. 

* * *

He was seated on the pallet, unlacing his boots when, also ready to retire for the evening, James entered. Steven hid a smirk. The face on his dearest friend had been persistently stuck in an entranced expression that coincidentally appeared at the same time as a certain young lady’s arrival. The tension between them was blatantly obvious from the beginning and grew with each passing hour to the point where even Clint, whose exceptionally keen sight was notoriously useless when it came to emotion, had been making comments. 

Steven would not let a moment longer pass without the subject being broached. "Nat told me what happened earlier today. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the others." 

“I had a momentary lapse. It won’t happen again.” 

“You don’t get distracted. Not in combat.” 

“This is hardly a war, Steven.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“Well, maybe I’m getting tired of fighting.” 

“I’m not the only one who has noticed you’ve not been yourself as of late,” he said. “It’s nice.” 

“What is?” James asked as he sat and unlaced his own boots. 

“You and Gemma.” 

“I’m not aware of what you are referring to.” 

“You very well are. I’ve never seen you like this before.” 

“Like what?” 

“In love.” 

“Love?” The brunet’s expression unexpectedly darkened. “She is attractive, I’ll admit, but that is as far as it goes.”

The statement was determined; stern. As if to caution Steven he was venturing into dangerous territory. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” The denial was not out of the man’s character, and Steven knew, of course, that it had been a long while since James had amorous feelings for a girl. Yet, the discordant tone laced with anger was alarming. “She looks the same way at you, you know.” 

Unwilling to allow himself to hope such a thing, James once again snuffed out the spark that flared in his chest. The surety of heartbreak was far too real and harrowing to think about. The ache caused by the loss of his loved ones was still raw. That was a wound that might never heal unless he could at least find out where they had gone. He didn’t need to invite any more hurting into his life.

He often railed at the guileless boy who thought becoming a knight would benefit both himself and his family. The ideals and beliefs that carried him through the rigors of training for the king’s army squashed as early as his first battle. 

Unlike Steven, whom he'd asked countless times from where his unfailing optimism came. The answer was always the same. “Helping those who cannot help themselves, gives me purpose. Peggy gives me hope.” 

Other than knowing how Steven felt about her, James had never been given details about their relationship. Not that he would ask. The couple wasn’t very demonstrative around others. Their intimacy was very private. It wasn’t something James had given thought to. Not that he didn’t have the same urges as any other man, but they were kept under control easily enough. It wasn’t until he and Gemma had caught their friends going at it that his imaginings hurtled back to a place he’d considered safely locked away. 

The last time he’d been with a woman was in France, en route home to England. A time for which he wasn’t particularly proud of but would never be able to forget. Upon receiving knighthood, James had thought himself a grown man. Traveling hundreds of miles, through numerous countries, James understood just how little he knew of the world. The rare but various women he met along the way taught him exactly how inexperienced he had really been. 

He soon learned that also isn’t what makes one a man. There were the atrocities of war, the terrible injury and coming home to find everything he had put faith in – the only things that had kept him going through those trials – gone. Taken away from him. He literally had nothing, forced to carve a new life for himself. Hardship, he thought, was what really defines a person. 

All it had taken was for one, innocent girl to make him feel like an adolescent all over again. 

The trouble was, as far as his affections were concerned, James could never be as carefree as Steven. He wished, like his friend, he could trust in those feelings and go wherever they might lead. But he knew that kind of love was not in his fate. Painful to even dream of and dangerous to imagine being anything more than a friend to her. 

He answered, “You know why no woman would want me, Steven. Now, please let this matter drop.” 

There it was. The admission that he continued to doubt his self-worth. “James, that’s utter nonsense. You know, she’s starting to ask why you’re wearing those gloves all the time. It’s getting harder and harder to evade the question. At the very least you should give her a chance.” 

“What’s the point? I’m sure she’ll soon tire of us and go home. There’s nothing here for a girl like her.” 

The dejected man sighed then rolled over, turning to face the wall while drawing up the covers. With a final remark, laced with heartache, James put an end to the conversations by bidding Steven, “Goodnight.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret is revealed.

He had known lying would be futile, but didn’t know of another way to deter the tenacious man. If Steven thought there was the slightest chance of bringing the pair together, he would turn it into a mission. James couldn’t afford that. He knew Gemma would never truly want him. Why set them both up for that heartbreak? 

Steven’s words had plagued James the entire night. Rest had only come in short spurts, leaving him listless and frustrated. Before light had broken, James gave up on the disturbed sleep and left his bed. He wandered a few yards from camp to take care of his personal business, then headed right back. The best way to get over his untoward feelings, he decided, would be to focus elsewhere. If he simply paid less attention to the beautiful girl and her charming disposition, life would be a lot less complicated. 

The only difficulty he foresaw was possibly hurting Gemma’s feelings. Steven's argument confirmed James’ suspicion. She had been admiring him. He admonished himself for not acknowledging that sooner, and encouraging the behavior. He certainly never should have given her the flower that could only be taken as a token of his esteem. James couldn’t rightly recall what he had expected to come of that, but he’d been thrilled by the reaction it had gotten. 

_Damn it to hell_ , he thought. _I won’t string her along any farther_. 

Determined to stay occupied with work that day, he decided to start by tending to the horses, thus crossed through the center of camp. A female voice could be heard, singing softly. To prevent startling the person, he gently called out “Good morning.” 

The song ended. Gemma’s lilting voice answered back, “Good morning, James.” 

He moved in the direction of the sound, stopping when he reached the animals, finally close enough to make them out in the duskiness. Gemma smiled at him while continuing to pet the nose of the roan mare. 

“What are you doing out here at this hour?” he asked. 

“I had difficulty sleeping. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. And you?” 

“The same, I guess.” 

An understanding passed between them that at least part of the trouble was due to their unspoken feelings for one another.

In his discomfort about the silence, James needed a distraction. “Do you ride?” 

“That is one thing I do know how to do. Father had a few horses.” 

“Would you like to go?” 

“I would like that very much.” He retrieved saddles and bridles from nearby and began tacking up. She asked with astonishment, “You mean now?” 

Dawn had only started to brighten their surroundings. James handed her several empty waterskins and grabbed a nearby bucket. “These need filling anyway.”

From the lean-to, he retrieved a quiver then strapped it on as well as slinging the bow across his chest. Gemma was standing beside her mount, searching about for something.

“Is there a problem?” James asked. 

“I've always had a stool,” she admitted. 

“You could upturn the bucket, but this is something you can easily do. Double jump on the plant leg to give yourself leverage. Watch.” 

His left hand was placed on the pommel; his right grabbed the back of the saddle, and he placed his left foot in the stirrup. With a quick bounce he launched himself up and over the seat. There was hesitation from the girl. “Don’t be intimidated. You can do this.” 

Squaring her shoulders, Gemma imitated his movements and was properly seated. Thankful she hadn’t disgraced herself, she smiled at him again. 

“Well done,” he praised. 

To be immensely proud of performing such a menial task, she knew was ridiculous. Yet, given all the other skills she'd had difficulty mastering, and for James to see her actually succeed at something, no matter how trivial, gave her a much-needed confidence boost. 

Following James’ slow path through the trees, Gemma tried to control her heart that began racing for a very different reason. They had never spent more than a few moments alone together. She couldn’t help but wonder if the others would get the wrong impression when they found the two of them gone from camp. Especially after the previous night’s revelation. She reassured herself that Marian would know better and set people right if need be. 

The familiar rush of the river had met her ears before they cleared the tree line. By then, the sun had risen far enough to light the forest, though the day would likely remain a cloudy one. 

Sidling up to where he waited, Gemma suddenly felt shy and unwilling to meet his gaze. Had she, the maiden would have seen he was afflicted with the same condition. Instead, she kept her eyes trained ahead.

While their rides were walked leisurely along the riverbank, she said, “It’s funny. I was taught to steer clear of Sherwood. To fear it. To think I might have lived a lifetime and not seen all this beauty. Once I leave, I will surely miss it.” 

“Have you given any thought to where you will go?” 

With a slight shake of the head, she confessed, “Whenever I try, a cold, sinking feeling enters my stomach. I really have no idea. Without any possessions or skills, where could I possibly go?” 

“Well, be assured you are welcome to stay with us as long as you need. None of us knows where our future lies either.” 

“Thank you. You’ve all been terribly kind. I hope someday I’ll be able to return that favor. I just wish I wasn’t such a burden.” 

“Gemma, I don’t know why you persist with that notion. What’s convinced you of this?” 

“The issue of Brock for one. He truly has a vendetta against Robin Hood now. I fear what he is capable of. Furthermore, it must be bothersome to continually have to explain things to me. For instance, as hard as I try, the bow and arrow are hopeless to me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s in everyone’s best interest to resign myself to society’s expectations.” 

“Don’t be silly. No one accuses you of not doing your share. You’ve even won Peggy over, who does not impress easily, I tell you. As for shooting, that merely requires practice.” 

Stopping and dismounting, he led his horse a few yards in order to tether it to a tree and urged Gemma to do the same. He removed his bow, then pulled an arrow and handed both over. 

“Please don’t make me do this. It’s embarrassing,” she whined. 

“Everyone starts somewhere. How can I help if I don’t know what you’re doing wrong?” 

He pointed to a birch in the near distance. “Just hit the trunk. Don’t worry about an exact mark for now.” 

Reluctantly, she took the weapon in her left hand. As taught, she lined herself up perpendicular to the target and planted her feet accordingly. Once the arrow was readied, she brought it up, pulling it back with three fingers. She looked down the shaft and released. The arrow hit the side of the tree and bounced off. 

Hanging her head in defeat, she said, “That’s actually one of my best so far.” 

James handed her another arrow. “Ready yourself.” As she pulled up the weapon again, he said, “After you’ve squared your shoulders and aimed, don't try to shoot. Just release.” 

Lowering her arms, she said, “I don’t understand.” 

He moved to stand directly behind her. “I’ll show you. Resume your position.” 

She did as directed and froze. He placed one hand on her left shoulder and the other on the cocked right arm. Despite his wearing the infamous gloves, Gemma felt a thrill travel down her spine. Butterflies exploded in her belly and a prickly heat coursed through every nerve. She began to feel lightheaded.

James instructed, “Take a breath.” 

All effort was put into getting air back into her lungs as she momentarily closed her eyes. When she opened them, fixating on the tree’s trunk, he all but whispered, “Release the breath and just let go.” 

Her fingers relaxed and the arrow went flying straight at the target. It stuck. 

James dropped his hands. She shouted, “Oh! I did it!” 

Another arrow was handed to her immediately. “On your own this time.” 

The second stuck not far from the first. Without so much as a glance, she put her hand out and demanded, “Give me another.” 

The process was repeated a third time with similar results. James chuckled. “I think we should get ourselves back to camp before people get worried.” 

They collected the containers and walked over to squat by the river’s edge. She began filling one of the sacks when she noticed James lowering the bucket into the water.

“You forgot your gloves,” she warned. 

“They’ll be fine.” 

“Why risk losing them?” The pained expression that clouded his face worried her. “Have I said something insensitive? They’re in good quality. I'd hate to see them ruined.” 

He sighed, placing the empty bucket beside him. “I suppose I can’t hide it much longer.” 

The girl only looked further confused. James slipped the glove from his right hand. Removing the left revealed extensive angry, red scars that disfigured his skin. Gemma stared for a moment, but didn’t seem repulsed. He next rolled both shirt sleeves up to his forearms. More of the fibrous tissue covered his left arm. 

Cosseted throughout her life, the girl was aghast, completely ignorant as to exactly what caused the abnormality. 

“I’ve upset you,” James stated. 

“No,” she lied to hide her concern while trying to untangle the complex feelings. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen anything like that before. Were you born with it?” 

He scoffed. Staring out at the water, afraid to meet any aversion, he explained. “It happened in Acre. Once the tide turned in our favor, the Templars began pillaging the entire city. Men turned wild. Fires were set. Steven and I were trying to make our way back to camp when I heard shouting from a second story window. There was a boy calling for help. I didn't even consider whether or not he was with the enemy. He was a child. No more than twelve. I found him and lowered him down to Steven outside. Before getting myself out, one of the burning beams fell. Instinctively, I deflected it with my arm. The damage it left behind runs from shoulder to fingers. I was in and out of consciousness for days due to the pain. For a while, they thought I wouldn’t make it home, or would lose the arm. Steven said I was lucky that an experienced healer arrived. Turned out he was the father of the boy I saved and had been told what happened. At first, no one wanted to let an infidel touch me, but Steven threatened to raze the entire campsite. Whatever the man did, saved me but I was left with this.” 

“Is it painful still?” 

“Not really. There are places where I can’t feel much at all. In others, there might come the odd prickling sensation, but it typically doesn’t last long. Wanda says my body is still repairing itself.” 

He moved to fill the bucket while Gemma considered everything he’d shared. The water skins having been filled and stoppered, she stood and watched as James righted his sleeves and retrieved the gloves.

“You wore those for my benefit?” she asked. The answer didn’t need to be voiced. “Well, I hope you’ll no longer do so.” 

They walked back to the horses. After she had secured the containers onto the saddle, James asked, “It doesn’t disturb you, then?” 

Hesitantly, feeling herself rather bold, she reached for the damaged hand. The feel of the mottled skin was admittedly strange to her. However, she felt nothing but warmth and tenderness in the touch.

“Every one of God’s creatures has their imperfections. In my experience, the ones on the outside are infinitely more tolerable. Besides, this is the badge of a hero.” 

His fingers curled around hers as he said, “I’m no hero, Gemma. I’m just a man trying to do the right thing.” 

“James, you’ve saved countless lives. Not only the boy’s, but the people here you’ve protected from starvation. Lord knows where I would be if you hadn’t come along.” 

The mixture of feelings fluttering through his chest was overwhelming. He could scarcely believe the words he heard, or that she didn’t recoil from him. His feet instinctually drew closer to hers, eyes concentrating on the lips he very desperately desired to kiss. She lifted her chin indicating she wished it too. 

Before he could ask permission and had barely gasped out, “Gemma,” the bored mare decided she'd had enough of the humans' lollygagging. The beast forcefully nudged James’ shoulder causing him to stumble and sit hard on the ground. The amorous atmosphere had been lost along with his dignity, but he cared little then. A more appropriate time would soon present itself. And while he was terribly frustrated with the animal, James could never be angry at anything that brought the joyous sound of Gemma’s laugh to his ears. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sheriff gets his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a bit of inspiration from The Princess Bride - one of my all time favorite movies.

Jack Rollins handed the reins over to the stable boy, gave his horse a friendly pat then made haste for the sheriff’s office. He jogged through the courtyard, slowing to a seemlier walk once within the halls of the castle. Heavy, ardent footfalls carried him through the wide, open door where he needed to check himself. He would have to wait. The sheriff was already engaged with the metallurgist and seemed to be in absolutely no mood for interruption. 

Rumlow sat behind the grand desk leaning against the high-backed mahogany chair. “I don’t suppose you know anything about alchemy, do you, Banner?” 

Sliding his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with one finger, he patiently responded, “I studied with a wide variety of scientists during my pilgrimage. If you’re specifically referring to producing precious metals, the answer is no.” 

“Well, go find someone who does, or learn it yourself. And quickly. The prince is breathing down my neck about the recent shortages.” 

“But-” 

“I don’t want to hear any excuses!” Rumlow fluttered a dismissive wave. “Leave, and for the love of God, please keep that depressing pout of yours out of my sight until you’ve found a solution.” 

Bruce nodded his understanding then scuttled off for the sanctity of his laboratory. 

Rollins maintained his cool demeanor, hiding the excitement he felt in being able to deliver most valuable information. “Sir,” the guard said as he stepped forward. “Miss Selwyn has been spotted.” 

Two big, hefty hands came down hard on the desktop. “Gemma?” Rumlow exulted. “You found Gemma?” 

“Her exact whereabouts isn’t known yet, but she was seen by the river with one of the outlaws. Our informer claims he can track her down and bring her in, if you wish. He fears if we were to mobilize a search party, the sympathizer’s network would alert them before our arrival. I’m inclined to agree.” 

Clasped onto the armrests, Rumlow pushed the chair away forcefully as he stood. "Those rogues. Barbarians! I swear if one hair on my fiancé's head has been harmed, I will burn that entire forest to the ground.” His ire exhausted, and operating under the delusion that his betrothed must have been taken and held unwillingly, the seething sheriff became rhapsodic at the thought of bringing the thieves to justice. He would be sure to make them pay dearly. They would all be punished in time, but ensuring Gemma’s safety was paramount. 

“Close that door, Jack,” he instructed. “We have some planning to do.” 

* * *

To begin his search, Jasper Sitwell thought it best to start at the point in the river where he had seen the girl the day before. When he reached that same particular stretch, he led his horse in the general direction the pair had retreated back into the woods. He worried finding the right camp could take some time. None of them really knew how many there were, as even Danvers rarely had had any reason to delve that deeply into the forest. 

Ultimately, fate was on was his side that day. He had dismounted to rest and water his horse for a while. Seated comfortably with his back resting against a large trunk, he was enjoying a bit of salted pork when two feminine voices met his ears. He jumped to his feet, placing a hand on his belt dagger. The young women were startled, nearly dropping the baskets they carried, but upon recognizing the prescribed vest worn by rangers, immediately relaxed. 

Although both women were outfitted similarly, Jasper recognized Gemma’s hair. He removed his hand from the weapon’s hilt and addressed her. “Are you Miss Selwyn?” 

The pair briefly looked at each other in concern, recalling the warning Peggy had given everyone about a traitor in the foresters’ midst. Marian asked, “Why do you ask?” 

Still speaking directly to Gemma, he answered, “You need to come with me. Your father is in danger. The sheriff has given him twenty-four hours to produce you or be punished as a rebel sympathizer.” 

“There's no time to lose then. Let’s go,” Marian said. 

“I should go alone,” Gemma replied. Her friend looked incredulous. “I fear I could no longer protect you. Brock’s villainy obviously knows no bounds. You’re safer here with our friends. And I need you to explain why I had to go." 

“After all this, you’re going to give up now and marry him?” 

“I don’t have a choice. I can’t let my father die on account of my actions, not to mention what would happen to everyone else at the manor. I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Who knows? Maybe as his wife, I could have some influence. Teach him some compassion.” 

“Well, that’s a pipe dream.” 

“It’s the best I can do. I must go.” The women embraced, Marian receiving a kiss on the cheek before watching her dearest friend ride off with the forester. 

During her walk back, the former maid shed a few tears. Not only upset over Gemma’s distress and the fear they might never again see one another, but a bad feeling had lodged itself in her gut. She hoped their new friends wouldn’t blame her for staying behind as asked, knowing that they would undoubtedly be disappointed. James most of all. 

Entering camp, she first spoke to Sam in private thinking maybe he would know best how to break the news. While the others were off hunting, he decided it best to let James know immediately. There had been no need to soften the blow, for the moment he saw their faces and seeing that Marian had returned alone, James knew something was terribly wrong. 

“Where’s Gemma?” he snapped in a poor attempt to hide the panic overtaking him. Marian had no time to finish explaining the meeting in the woods before he growled, “Hell's bells.” With no hesitation, James went for a horse and hurried to ready it. 

“Which way?” he barked at Marian. 

The woman pointed in the direction from which she’d come. “They started in that direction.” 

“Selwyn manor. Is it north or south on the King’s Road?” 

“North.” 

He urged the horse forward, winding his way and cursing the trees that prevented a faster pace. Praying it wouldn’t be too late, if he could find them at all, he took the straightest path to the road. It took him much longer than he had hoped to clear the forest in order to put the horse into a gallop. 

Riding behind Jasper, Gemma saw the men dressed in black before he cleared the line of trees. As they entered onto the road, the castle guards approached on their own horses. Rumlow was among them. 

“Gemma! Thank goodness you are safe.” She was confused by his demeanor, but before she could utter a word, he turned on Sitwell. “Tell my men where the camp is so they can apprehend the others.” 

“I didn’t exactly find them. She just happened along and I knew how anxious you were to get her back.” 

“You buffoon!” 

“Brock,” Gemma cut in. “Could you please berate him later and please take me to my parents?” 

“Oh, that. No need. To my knowledge your parents are fine. You’ll be coming with me straight to the castle as originally intended.” 

Gemma slid off Japser’s horse. “You lied? You’re the traitor!” 

“I’m sorry. Truly I am. But I have my wife and children to think of,” he whined. 

“And when the others find out and kill you, then where will your family be?” 

“He has a new position with me. You’ll see I reward loyalty. I’m generous like that,” Rumlow explained. 

The entire group was interrupted by the sound of thundering hoof beats headed in their direction. Within moments, the rider came tearing around the bend. To Gemma’s horror, it was James and he was alone. 

“No!” she shouted. But it was too late. The sheriff’s men already had arrows drawn and aimed. The horse was instantly pulled up only yards away. 

Thrilled at having caught the outlaw, Rumlow clapped his hands together. “This day just gets better and better,” he sneered. “Seize him.” As the guards pulled James from his horse and led him over to his captor, the sheriff said, “I finally have the displeasure of meeting the man himself. Robin Hood.” 

“I’m not Robin Hood you snake. My name is James Buchanan Barnes.” 

At Brock’s scoffing, Gemma said, “He’s telling the truth.” 

“Well, why in the hell would you come running after her then?” The epiphany struck him. He mocked, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re in love with her? Do you seriously think a refined, noble girl would have anything to do with the likes of someone as lowly as you?” 

“He served with King Nicholas. You should take care how you speak,” Gemma cautioned. “In any case, he’s a better man than you could ever hope to be.” 

“You poor darling. The rebels must have influenced you somehow. Not to worry. Once we’re back at the castle and you’re restored to your rightful place, you will remember soon enough.” His face made an alarming shift as another thought entered his mind. “Did any of these cretins take advantage of you?” 

“No. Of course, not.” She debated on telling him off, but the look on Rumlow’s face frightened her. 

“Regardless,” he turned and glowered at the captive, “by order of royal decree, I hereby sentence you to be hung by the neck until your death, immediately.” 

“No!” Gemma shouted as James struggled to free himself from the guards’ grips. One of them punched him hard in the gut, causing him to double over. His resistance ended. 

“Please, Brock,” she cried. “Stop this. Spare his life and I will marry you as soon as possible.” 

“Gemma, no,” James rasped out, struggling to catch his breath. “I’m not worth all this.” 

She ignored him, knowing it was the only chance there was of keeping him alive. 

Rumlow said, “You are too generous of heart, my dear. But to show you my honorable intentions, I will grant you this request.” He ordered James bound. “Besides, since you have given me pause to think. I’m sure we could get some very useful information from him.” 

“I won’t tell you a goddamned thing, you vile worm.” Rollins backhanded James across the mouth, causing him to spit blood. 

“In time, Jack. In time,” the sheriff crooned, nearly vibrating with the thought of breaking the man. “For now, Gemma, take his horse.” 

She glanced over to James who shook his head to indicate trying to outrun them would be a mistake. 

"It’s time we were off,” Rumlow declared. “I have a wedding to plan. I’m sure we could easily arrange something in three days.” 

Gemma immediately started thinking of scenarios that might at least delay him until she could find a way to free James. These ruminations had the added benefit of distracting her from looking back as he was tethered and forced to walk behind them. Her heart was already breaking at seeing the despair in his eyes and was sure anything further would be the end of her. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemma and James are taken to the castle.

When Gemma gave herself over to the sheriff, James felt as if his heart were being torn straight from his chest. He damned himself for having raced ahead with no consideration to reason. Maybe if he had done things slightly differently. Stayed hidden in the trees, perhaps. Maybe then he could have gotten Gemma away. But thanks to his haste, they were both doomed. 

A recollection of the way she had looked at him by the river, just a day before. That her opinion of him after learning about the arm, should not have been diminished, but rose higher. That an aspect of longing remained in her eyes as James was about to kiss her. And now he would never get the chance. Fate was a very cruel mistress indeed to tempt him with a chance at happiness. The thought of not only going on without Gemma, but that she should be with such a despicable sot, was too awful to bear. He may as well resign himself to destiny and wish it end quickly. 

His chest visibly contracted against the emotional distress, but the tiny glimmer of hope that resided inside him, the one that Gemma had unknowingly lit and nurtured, protected itself and its owner from faltering fully. This trifling flame, minuscule as it was, ignited the walls of his crushed heart and began to grow. The warm solace of love’s fire spread. Knowing her action had come only from the desire to save him, James silently vowed to do whatever he could to save her in return. Even if should it take his dying breath. 

There was absolutely no way he was going to be able to escape without help. He knew this. He had been stripped of all weapons and tied up. The sheriff would incarcerate him as soon as they reached the castle. Probably throw him in the dungeon. 

Wondering how long it might be before their friends would think to look for them, he began to pray. The God that James had denounced in another land was called upon once more, not so much for himself but for the girl who was in effect, giving up her life for his. James prayed the others would soon find and free her before it was too late. If he came out of it alive, well, that would be a bonus. 

For most of the walk, James kept his head down to keep the afternoon sun out of his eyes. This meant he missed the many times Gemma had peeked over her shoulder to ensure he was at no point being dragged or otherwise abused. And he missed seeing her desperate need for some sort of reassurance that they would be able to survive the tragedy that had befallen them. 

Finally reaching the stable, the guards freed Barnes from the horse. Rollins commanded the wrist bindings stay in place. Before he took the prisoner away, Rumlow warned, “Remember, we need him to talk. Don’t go too far, like last time.” 

James stood his ground as long as he could, willing Gemma to catch his eye. By her body language alone, he could see she was full of remorse. When she did look his way, maybe for the last time, he hated what he saw. She blamed herself for leading him into their harrowing situation and the sadness carried along with it very nearly did break his heart. 

His hands twitched in their confines, longing to wipe the tears rimming her eyes. The best James could do was put as much confidence and affection that he could muster into his voice. “Don’t forget who you are, Gemma. Everything will turn out okay.

Maybe he could give back some of the hope she had given him. 

* * *

Quietly, James followed the guards to the dungeon as expected. His mind kept replaying the moment when Rumlow had led Gemma off into the castle. How forlorn she had been when looking back one last time! He felt physically ill but continued to walk calmly into the damp, dark cell and didn’t even flinch when the bars closed with a resounding clang. He knew the guards would be back soon enough and when they were, he would need every ounce of strength he had left. Sitting back against the wall with his shoulder leaning onto the bars for benefit of the spare light available, James waited and continued praying for divine intervention. 

Before leaving, Rollins said, “Don’t get too comfortable,” with a mean laugh. “We’ll be back presently.” 

Two stories far above them, Rumlow escorted Gemma into the chamber that would serve as her apartment until their wedding. He proudly showed off the thoughtful accommodations that had been prepared to befit the future wife of the crown's representative. An attempt to soften the ambiance had been made with tapestries hung against the stone walls as well as ornamental rugs along the floor. It was larger than her room at home had been. In addition to a sizeable bed, there were a small writing desk and large wardrobe where her trousseau had been unpacked. 

While the instinctually greedy part of her that longed to once again enjoy a soft mattress and not have to haul buckets of water every morning, Gemma knew she would never again take pleasure in any domestic comfort as long as James and the rest of her friends endured hardship. Moreover, there was no one in the castle she could confide in let alone laugh with or make a friend. The future within those walls seemed like a very lonely one.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a young woman who had arrived, claiming she had been sent for. 

Brock explained to Gemma, “She will minister to your needs until we can reunite you with Marian. I know how very fond of her you are.” He turned back to the other girl. “In the meantime, see to it this foul costume is burned and tend to her bath.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Having further business to attend to, Rumlow made his leave in consideration of the privacy Gemma required, promising to return so that they might dine together. The maid immediately called upon servants to light the fire and procure the required wood tub and cloth liner, as well as soap and aromatic herbs. 

While waiting for the water to be heated and poured into the tub, Gemma stared out the window that looked into the upper courtyard. The entirety of her mind remained on James’ condition. 

After seeing everyone else out, the young girl bade her lady to undress and enjoy the soothing bath. She slipped into the warmth of the water, cleansing off the physical reminders of her days in the woods. The maid then collected Gemma’s clothes and walked towards the fireplace. 

“Wait,” she begged. The maid turned to look at her mistress. “Could we not simply have them cleaned?” 

“If you’ll pardon, miss, I don’t think these could stand up to washing. Besides, what further use could they possibly be?” 

Simply having wanted to have something to remind her of her time in Sherwood, Gemma had no logical response, so nodded in acceptance. Her thoughts turned again to the cold and lonesome state James was suffering at that same moment. Tears were shed but quickly washed away as she resolved to hold onto what little hope there was. 

She imagined finding an opportune time to seek out the dungeons, but it didn’t sound as if she was going to be left to herself. If she were able to sneak away, should the maiden be discovered attempting to abet the outlaw, it would only make things worse for the both of them. The best course, Gemma decided, would be to gain Brock’s trust and influence his actions. 

_James is alive._ This was the only thought that gave her any courage. He lived, and she was determined to see to it he stayed that way. 

* * *

Down in the dungeon cell, the prisoner was held by two guards while Rollins steadily worked him over between brief pauses as they awaited a response. His breath becoming more painful by the minute, James knew a few of his ribs were badly damaged, if not broken. He felt himself losing the fight to remain conscious. His only chance was to surrender. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you exactly where Robin Hood is,” he murmured. Rollins gripped the back of his hair and pulled up James’ battered face to meet Rumlow’s. 

With a sneer, the greedy sheriff replied, “I have to give you credit, Barnes. Most men don’t hold out as long as you have, but I knew you’d see things our way eventually. Tell me where Hood is then.” 

A feral smirk crossed James’ face as he spat blood and panted, “Up...your...arse.” The uppercut to his jaw was the last thing he remembered. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue.

Back in the depths of Sherwood, Sam tried to console Marian. After James had rushed off, Sam had explained that Sitwell’s story sounded like a trap. She then realized why her gut had been insisting how foolish it had been to let Gemma go on her own. Despite Sam's insistence that things could have been worse, the former maid felt she had let Gemma down. She was overcome with a guilt that he was not at all successful keeping at bay given his own trepidation. 

He didn’t dare tell her his fears for James who knew better than to go off on his own. Especially, if the sheriff or his men were involved. If he happened to catch up to Sitwell, James should have already returned. That meant he was wandering somewhere in the woods too dejected to come back or something had gone terribly wrong. Either scenario meant trouble. They would need to look for him. 

Sam also fretted about how the news would go over with Steven who had once confided how terrified he’d been of losing James in the Holy Land. Even though the boisterous blond liked to think he was always in control, left to his own devices he habitually let over-confidence get the better of him. It was his friend’s calming, pragmatic presence that kept him grounded. Sam knew that Steven would stop at absolutely nothing to save any of them, let alone the one most like a brother. 

The hunting party eventually arrived carrying a good many number of hares between them. Their good mood, however, dissipated as soon as they saw the faces of the sole couple left to greet them. Sam wasted no time in detailing what had happened. 

Peggy immediately came up with a game plan. “You and Steven go to the castle. Worst case scenario, James was captured. Check the dungeons first. Maybe he’ll know where Gemma will be. If for some reason Rumlow doesn’t have his hands on them, that’ll be a blessing. The rest of us will move the camp five miles south behind the high outcrop.” 

Steven worried should his friend already be heading back. “If he should return after we’ve all gone? It’ll devastate him.” 

Sam argued, “He should be back here by now.” 

Agreeing, Peggy also added, “James knows we’ve been compromised and he knows the contingency plan. He would find us.” She began directing the others to begin packing up the necessities as Steven and Sam readied the two remaining horses. 

It was nightfall by the time they reached the rear of the castle on the west side. The main, eastern, gate would not only lose them more time, but did not afford the stealth they required. If James was being held inside, they would have to enter and exit without notice. The only viable option was to enter undetected through one of the promontory tunnels. 

Because those pathways all converged, leading only to the dungeons, they were rarely used and unguarded. That meant they were also unlit. Sam and Steven entered, with their backs and hands against the wall, slowly inching their way through sideways. Their tedious shuffling finally ended with a dim light appearing ahead. Voices echoed down the tunnel before they could see the iron gate blocking the entrance. 

Sam crept carefully forward on tiptoe, doing his best to remain hidden in shadow. He went back to Steven and whispered in his ear, “Two guards that I can see.” 

Steven said, “We need a diversion.” 

Sam nodded and gave out a loud, “Meow!” 

With wide eyes, Steven said, “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Trust me,” he whispered back and mewled again. 

“Oy,” one of the guards said. “I think there’s a kitten in the tunnel.” 

“So?” said a second voice. 

“She must be lost.”

They heard footsteps walking towards them, then flattened themselves as tightly against the dark walls as they could.

“Are you lost little kitty? I bet you’re hungry too.”

A jangle of keys and turn of the lock sounded just before the gate was swung open. The guard stepped in, bent over trying to see where the cat was.

“Here, puss-puss.” 

Sam brought an elbow down hard at the base of the man’s neck, knocking him flat then divesting him of his sword. Steven had already rushed into to the room, coming face-to-face with the other guard. The sheriff’s man was reaching for his sword, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the long, powerful leg which had struck out and hit him in the gut. He doubled over and slammed back against the stone wall. Steven stripped him of his weapon. 

Sam led the first guard back inside by sword point and had him sit next to his comrade. They were in a room that was being used for storage. There were crates, sacks and casks along the walls. A large barrel was serving as a table where the guards had been eating supper. James was nowhere to be seen. 

“Do you have a prisoner here by the name of James Buchanan Barnes?” Steven asked. 

“Don’t know his name, but they brought someone in earlier,” one answered. 

“Where?” He was pointed to the archway leading to the cells. "Any other guards?” 

“Only up the stairs, outside the door.” 

“You’d better not be lying.” The steel weapon’s tip was held at the base of his captive's throat. 

“I’m not lying. The sheriff usually hangs people immediately nowadays.” 

Afraid that someone might come down and interrupt them, Steven had the men give up their uniforms. He slipped one set on atop his clothes while Sam found some rope and helped tie and gagged the guards. 

After donning his own uniform, Sam then cautiously moved beneath the arch, confirming there were no more men about. He stepped through, not seeing a sole in any of the dark cells. He passed closer by the bars of each until he found James’ prostrate form. Struggling in haste with the keys, he entered the cell and tried to rouse him. James barely stirred and his breathing was labored, but he was alive. Sam tried to help him to his feet, failing miserably. 

“Need some help here,” he called out. 

Steven left the guards and helped get James to his feet, but the man couldn’t stand on his own. His shirt was wet with blood down his side and his head lolled forward. 

“Do you know where Gemma is?” Steven asked. A groan was the only response. 

“Steven,” Sam said, “we need to get him out of here now. If we took the time for a search and Rumlow should come back, I’m not sure he would survive any more beatings.” 

They each draped a limp arm around their shoulders and hauled James back towards the annex. Steven grabbed some more rope as well as a torch from the wall before they head back down the tunnel. 

It was a slow process getting their injured friend out the way they had come. On occasion, he would rouse to a seemingly lucid state, only to resist and try to turn back around. Then he would pass out again and would have to be dragged between them. By the time they reached the horses, Steven and Sam were sweating with exertion. 

They first hoisted James onto a horse, Steven then climbing on behind. He wound the rope round both of their upper torsos a couple times before tying it off. 

“I’m not sure how safe this is,” Sam complained. “What if he wakes again?” 

“Unless you’ve got a better idea, I don't know how else to get him back.” 

They proceeded slowly, Sam taking the lead with the torch which helped light the way. Not only did it take longer than either would have liked due to their speed, and having to stop a few times to quiet the distressed casualty, but they also made slow progress finding the new camp. 

Once they made it, the others hurried to their sides. “My god, what did they do to him?” Peggy gasped. As Clint and Sam helped lower James, Steven explained why they had returned without Gemma. Marian was visibly upset even further but had no argument with their decision. 

Peggy directed, “Get him under cover.” Earlier, the evacuees had erected temporary shelters that were part lean-to, part tent that would serve until sturdier structures could be built. 

“We need to warm some water and get any linen we can spare,” she added 

“I think we kept some scraps from our old dresses,” Marian offered. 

“We have a few candles left, too,” Nat stated. “You’re going to need more light.” 

Steven brought more blankets, a few he folded to serve as more protection against the cold ground. With a bit of struggle, Sam and Clint got James undressed down to his braies then laid him down, covering his lower body with a final blanket before Peggy inspected his injuries. 

The minute she applied a damp cloth to James’ forehead, he began mumbling and rolling around as if he wanted to rise. Steven held him down by the shoulders and told him to relax; that he was safe. It didn’t have much effect, but eventually the patient simply tired and was out again soon enough. 

Although the rest of the group all wanted to continue helping, there simply wasn’t enough room in the cramped space. Instead, they bombarded Sam with questions on what had occurred at the castle. It wasn’t long before Peggy and Steven emerged. 

“He has a lot of bruising and swelling on his ribs. There are three shallow cuts on his left side. The bandaging should stop the bleeding. His face looks a lot better since I washed it. I don’t think anything’s broken but without him able to tell us where he has pain...we’ll just need to pray,” she shrugged sadly. 

Steven put a consoling arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “He’ll be okay. Trust me. He survived Acre, he’ll survive this," he said to reassure himself more than anyone else. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in another room inside the castle...

That same evening, another torture of a different kind was meted out. 

Certain that the maid was under orders to report everything, Gemma resolved to keep all emotions to herself. There was little doubt that Brock would renege on his promise, but maybe she could delay it if she remained in his good graces and kept him happy. In any case, he would be returning to her chamber soon, and she would never let him be privy to her true feelings. Her heart would be closed to him; always. 

It was hard to steel herself against the despair that threatened to overtake her. The possibility of never seeing James again was heartbreaking. The idea of having to live out the rest of her days as Mrs. Rumlow was unbearable. Part of her doubted she’d be able to endure it for long, even if she wanted to try. Which she didn’t. Gemma knew down in her soul, if she couldn’t be with James, she would lose the will to go on. But she pushed that notion aside knowing that it was far too soon to give up hope. 

Besides, a girl who once seized the opportunity to take control of her life should be able to do it again. And again. 

_Right?_ she silently asked imaginary Peggy. 

_Don’t you forget it either_ , came the fictitious reply. _As many times as needed. Whatever it takes_. 

Until then, she would need to stay sharp and keep her eyes open. 

The maid had put the finishing touches on Gemma’s hair by the time Brock had returned along with a retinue of servants bringing supper. He looked upon his affianced with an air of disappointment that she had chosen to don a profoundly simple dress. Dismissing the effrontery with the recollection that her family was not among the elite class and that she was likely saving her better clothes, he made a mental note to send a seamstress the next day.

He, himself, had changed into a more comfortable, finer linen tunic embroidered with silver thread around the collar. Notwithstanding the signature, black color, the relaxed fabric did slightly soften his appearance. 

He took her hand, placing a chaste kiss upon it. Wondering if Brock might actually hold some true affection for her, Gemma’s stomach turned. Still, if it were true, she could use it to her advantage. 

Given that her belly was full of the emotions she had stuffed down, Gemma had trouble eating anything but the smallest bites of bread along with the wine Brock had provided. She considered the dull knife held in her hand, wondering if she would be able to use it to kill if ever it came down to it. 

The villain sat across from her shoving forkfuls of food into his mouth and talking about wedding ideas. She listened for pauses in order to demurely answer, “I’m sure whatever you think is best.” This was, in fact, sincere as she could care less. She was giving no consideration to her impending nuptials or her future then. The single thought occupying her mind was James. 

Irregardless of being unable to do anything about his situation at the time, Gemma found it impossible to distract herself from that prevailing worry. Questioning Brock to find out exactly how James was being treated wasn’t an option. She feared if the sheriff had any idea of her true feelings, James would be made to suffer all the more. Gemma wasn’t naïve enough to think they’d made the rebel comfortable, but the conjecture of what they may have done sickened her. 

Thinking about Marian and her other friends would divert her mind momentarily, but it always insisted on returning to the more pressing problem. There would never again be any peace in her heart until James was freed. 

On the other side of the table, Brock watched his bride-to-be with curiosity. Cleaning her up and dressing her appropriately had restored her charm, yet she looked quite unhealthy. The lethargy and her general ennui were of grave concern. He repeatedly urged her to eat more being as she looked rather faded. He assumed it was from the ordeal in the forest. 

Ultimately, unable to further ignore Gemma's disinterest, he said, “You must forgive me. I have been so anxious for your return; I’ve forgotten what a trial you must have suffered. You are obviously weary.” He couldn’t fathom any other reason for her lack of caring. “I should let you retire.” 

“Yes. I think that’s best.” She had to admit to being tired. And while desiring nothing more than having time alone to plan, fatigue had set it. A well-devised scheme would not be coming that night. Hopefully, if she could get some sleep, it would clear her mind. 

They had just risen from their seats when a knock came at the door. After Brock had acknowledged it, Jack Rollins entered and announced, “Sir, I must alert you to a most a grievous matter.” 

“Well, out with it.” 

The second-in-command shifted his eyes over to Gemma then back again. 

“Ah, yes,” Rumlow said, stepping out into the corridor. 

He hadn’t shut the door, but Rollins kept his voice low. Then the sheriff shouted, “Barnes is gone? How is that possible?” 

There was more muttering from his deputy. “Damn it!” Rumlow bellowed. Through gritted teeth he spat out, “Go fire those two idiots and kick them out of the castle before I get my hands on them. And I’ll speak to you later.” 

Rollins left in a hurry and prayed the sheriff would cool down by the time he saw him again. 

Gemma quickly covered her mouth with both hands to hide a smile. Briefly, she wondered why James hadn’t come for her. Her feigned disgust at the news suddenly became a real thing as she watched Brock storm back into the room, his face and neck tinged pink. The color slowly intensified to a beet red. 

Rumlow’s rage turned to Gemma next. His brain fleetingly registered her face had come back life. There was something fishy going on. “Do you know anything about this?” 

“Me? How would I? I’ve been here the whole time. Ask the maid.” 

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes. “I think you know more than you pretend. So, I’m going to ask you again,” he growled. “Where is their camp?” 

“I won’t answer until you let me go, you brute,” she hissed. He dropped his hand and she rubbed her jaw. “I don’t know how to tell you where they are. I was only there for a few days. I didn’t have time to become intimately familiar with the woods.” 

“Give me some landmarks. I’ll send Sitwell out with a troupe and we’ll hunt them down.” 

Now, the band’s evacuation plan was one of the first things Peggy had drilled into her and Marian. She had every confidence the camp would have already been moved but Gemma still thought it prudent to give him as little information as possible. 

“We were about a mile from the river. And there was a really big rock.” 

“Give me strength, woman. Do you think I'm an imbecile? You’re protecting them. Why? What kind of spell do they have over you?” He began pacing, running his hands roughly through his hair as he worked out the puzzle. “Your maid is still their captive, and I know you want to be reunited with her...” Stopping short, he turned on her again. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? You’re in love with that criminal.” 

Before she could protest, he continued. “Don’t try to deny it. I can see it all over your face. How could you debase yourself in such a way? I hope you don’t think any of those hoodlums are going to try to save you. Because that would be foolish indeed.” 

He went to the door and called for the servants to clear the dinner table. As he dismissed the maid who followed behind the rest, Rumlow added, “But, as a precaution, we’re going to have to make sure they can’t get to you.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You are not to leave this room without my express consent. There will also be a guard outside the door at all hours. Any movement about the castle will be under escort.” 

“You’re imprisoning me?” Gemma cried out. 

“I’m keeping you safe. Not only from them, but you obviously need to be protected from whatever absurd notions they put into your head. I’m certain once we’re married, you’ll quickly come back to your senses. Until then, this is the only way to guarantee your security.” 

Incensed, she insisted, “Brock, this is an insult of the highest order. I won’t stand for it.” 

“Well, since we’re going to be married soon, you’d better get used to it.” 

The door was shut. Gemma rushed at it, hearing the key turning in the lock outside. She banged against the heavy planks. “Let me out you beast!” she screamed, to no avail. It was then she finally, let go of all the accumulated aggravations, sinking to the floor and allowing the tears to flow freely. 

The anger and frustration eventually exhausted themselves and Gemma was then able to remember. _James is free_. Once more, she wondered why he hadn’t come for her, but knew in her heart that something must have prevented him. At least he had gotten away safely, and there was no way James was going to abandon her to the sheriff’s devices. She was sure of it. 

In the meantime, she would rest easier with the knowledge that James was safe, and pray that inspiration or intervention was on its way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by both _Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves_ and _Ivanhoe_. Please, let me know what you think.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Gemma continue their separate struggles.

The door shook with Gemma’s pounding from the other side. Also ignoring the shouting behind it, Rumlow quickly turned the key in the lock. He disliked having to resort to treating her in such a manner. This was not how he had imagined their engagement starting, but she’d brought it on herself. He merely had her best interests at heart. 

_How could she possibly have any affection for a scruffy thief like Barnes?_ he wondered. The ruffian had absolutely nothing of value to offer her. There were oft-told stories of women falling in love with their captors, but Rumlow had always thought them fables. Whether Gemma had fallen under this predilection or there be another cause, something had befuddled her brain and he meant to correct it. 

He looked to his left then right. Rollins was at the end of the hall talking with another of his men. “Both of you here. At once,” Rumlow hollered. 

He roughly positioned the guard by the door then removed the key from the large ring carried on his belt. He slapped it into the man’s hand. “You stand watch here and don’t move an inch until you’re relieved. Rollins, set up a rotation. Nobody goes in or out of the room without my direct order.” 

The sheriff turned and left in a huff, shouting “Move!” at anyone who stood in the way as he went down the stairs to the wine cellar. He unlocked the door and grabbed the nearest jug to hand, yanking the cork away and tossing it to the floor. He took a good long drink before locking the cellar again and making his way back upstairs to his quarters. 

The effrontery continued to nag at him. Even thinking about the prized land dowry which was his top priority, didn’t assuage the aggravation Gemma had caused. She would have to be reminded of her place and shown how generous he could be. That would surely win her over. Providing her with the comforts and finery that only he had access to would soon make her forget all about that common plebe and his ragamuffin friends. 

Until then Rumlow needed to soothe his injured feelings, and the fact that he couldn’t immediately take it out on his rival frustrated him further. There weren’t any other prisoners left in the dungeon to beat up on either. He resorted to the last option he could think of. 

The next morning, Rumlow woke with a horrific headache. Sitting upright made it worse, but he suffered through it in order to pour himself some wine. Nothing else was going to stave off the pounding and quench his dry mouth. He turned and looked at the whore still sleeping under the covers then shook her awake. 

“Go,” he rasped. Without a word or hesitation, she dressed and left. 

There wasn’t time to call for a bath that morning. Rumlow instead used the porcelain ewer and basin to wash as best he could while all of the night’s grievances returned afresh compounding the busy day ahead. The Prince was getting impatient, there were wedding arrangements to be made and seeing to Gemma’s care. On top of all this, he needed to come up with a plan to rid Sherwood of rebels once and for all. 

He would ensure, in particular, that Mister James Buchanan Barnes would pay dearly one way or another. 

* * *

In the woods, James had slept through the entire night and was still out in the morning. Peggy had repeatedly needed to assure Steven that a long rest was best for healing. It didn't ease his mind much, but she would keep him occupied with helping the others bolstering their shelters. 

Around midday, however, Peggy sought him out. “We need to go get Wanda,” she said. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Marian said she was passing the tent and heard James muttering. When she checked on him, he kept at it though still unconscious, and he’s feverish. She doesn’t know how long it’s been going on but he seems to be in distress.” 

Steven started heading towards James but Peggy stopped him. “We don’t have a moment to waste. Marian and Nat are tending to him.” 

Around an hour later they returned with Wanda who was carrying a satchel filled with the tools of her trade. Under the lean-to, James was still mumbling incoherently. Nat was by his side trying to cool his forehead with a damp cloth. Wanda asked to be left alone with him while she worked. She emerged a few minutes later. 

“The wounds on his side are red, swollen and hot to the touch. I applied a poultice that should help, but it needs to be reapplied every few hours. I think it is something else upsetting his mind though.” 

“It’s got to be Gemma,” Sam said. “Maybe he doesn’t know where she’s gone?” 

“In any case, he needs to rest if he’s going to pass this fever. I have brought some herbs. I will show you how to make a draught that will help him sleep.” While she worked, she also instructed that they make sure he drank water at regular intervals to stave off excessive thirst. If the fever didn’t break within twenty-four hours, they were to find her again. Once her mixture was ready, Wanda asked Steven to help sit James up so they could get the liquid down without gagging him. In under ten minutes, the patient relaxed and was resting peacefully. 

The group’s attention then returned to the matter of finding Gemma. For one thing, they weren’t entirely sure she was being held in the castle. There was always the possibility that Rumlow had sent her elsewhere. 

“What we need is some reconnaissance,” Steven proposed. 

“They’ll be looking for you and Sam,” Nat reminded. 

“I’ll do it,” Clint offered. 

“Not on your own, you’re not,” Nat said. "Let's get going.” 

It was late afternoon when they got to the castle. It was easy enough to slip through the main gate among the throngs of people moving in and out, but the pair needed to stay away from the other sentries who were more vigilant. 

They made their way to the smithy without notice. Anthony confirmed having heard a rumor about the sheriff’s fiancé being locked up in one of the rooms after James’ rescue. “I knew those two were hiding something from me the other day,” he griped. “I thought you lot trusted me. Anyway, I wouldn’t go asking a lot of questions if I were you. Rumlow’s got everyone on high alert after last night. What is the girl to you anyway?” 

“She’s one of us now and she doesn’t want to marry him,” Nat explained. 

“Can’t blame her.” 

“Can you help us out?” Clint asked. 

“What do you think I can do?” Stark countered. 

“If we could at least find out where she’s being held, we can come up with a plan.” 

“I swear you all have dramatic-as-possible death wishes,” he shook his head. 

The blacksmith wiped his hands on his apron before removing it. He turned over his shoulder and shouted at his apprentice, Peter. “Kid, I'll be back in ten minutes. Try not to burn the place down.” 

“Yes, sir, Mister Stark,” the young man replied. 

The rebels hung out in the back of the smithy while they waited. Nat picked up a sword, admiring the handiwork. 

“Um, Mister Stark doesn’t like people touching his things without permission,” Peter said nervously. Nat dropped the sword with a _clank_ and glared at him. 

“Is she always this scary?” he whispered to Clint. 

“Don’t let her fool you. It’s all show.” 

“Well, she’s really good at it.” 

Anthony returned sooner than expected. Rumlow being bested by the outlaws again was the talk of the entire castle. Once the blacksmith sent Peter back to work out of earshot, he said, "She’s in one of the bedchambers on the second floor. The door is locked with a guard standing by at all times. Day and night. There’s only one chambermaid that has been assigned to attend to her. Anyone else would need a direct order from the sheriff himself to enter.” 

“Just the one guard?” Nat asked. 

“As far as I know. That’s the best I could do in such a short time.” 

“It’s more than we had before. Thanks,” Clint said. “I’m not sure why you keep helping us the way you do when we can hardly return the favor.” 

“You help keep us all fed. That’s more than enough. But, if I’m being honest, it’s less about helping you and more about thwarting our resident devil incarnate.” 

“We appreciate it just the same.” They said their goodbyes and went back to camp. 

* * *

A good portion of Gemma's morning had been spent in bed, save for when she was visited by the chambermaid and seamstress. Exhaustion had set in stemming from both the unaccustomed physical toll of outdoor life as well as the recent emotional strains. She spent hours laying there, holding the crucifix worn around her neck during prayers for deliverance and continued protection over her friends. 

Boredom didn’t take long to settle in and she longed for something to do. There was food and water on a tray that had been left for her. Gemma nibbled at a few bites of cheese and bread before taking a long drink to refresh herself. An inspection of the nearby desk produced a bit of parchment and a bottle of ink. She considered sending some word to her parents, but was confident they would be updated by the sheriff. Besides, she really didn’t want to have to deal with them on top of everything else, before the wedding. 

The rest of her hours alone was spent working on the embroidery she and Marian had packed away in the chest. Much later, Brock had sent word with the returning seamstress. He would be joining Gemma for dinner and expected her to wear the new dress he’d had made. 

While it was not very elaborate, the high-waisted gown made of fine linen was admittedly lovely. A pair of slippers had also been made to match. What she loved most was the outfit’s baby blue color reminding her of James’ eyes. Those captivating eyes that had seared their likeness into her memory. She couldn't believe how much she already missed seeing them. 

Missed as well was the woodland costume that had taken getting used to. She appreciated the freedom of movement it had provided. Being draped once more in a long skirt and dealing with unnecessarily long sleeves felt unusually awkward. Gemma prayed Brock didn’t expect her to be so attired from then on. That would necessitate one more battle in a growing list she would have to fight. 

Earlier, Gemma had concluded that the only way to gain herself any freedom would be to earn the sheriff’s trust. This would necessitate placating him and make him believe that she would be dutiful. Then perhaps after the wedding he would lift the restrictions assuming there would be no further need. She would have to try to slip away undetected before the consummation. There was no way she would be able to go through with that. She’d, in all honesty, rather die than share his marriage bed. 

At suppertime, Brock entered with the servants bringing in food and drink for the evening. Surprisingly, he was in a pleasant mood. The day in isolation had gone by so slowly for her, Gemma was almost welcoming Brock’s company. 

He kissed her hand and bowed. “I apologize for raising my voice last night and hope you’ll forgive the outburst. I can be overly sensitive at times.” 

Gemma was momentarily taken aback. Unsure how to respond, she said, “I suppose it only shows how much you care for me.” 

“That is it exactly. I want to give you the best there is to offer, Gemma.” 

Briefly, she wondered if this were true, maybe she could indeed influence him. Maybe there was a chance of having him ease his reign of terror over Nottingham. Yet, she remembered how quickly his mood was capable of turning and realized these types of men could not be reasoned with. 

Her appetite had returned that evening, the wine helping to digest both the food and the company. Brock was pleased to see her feeling better and was satisfied that Gemma was coming around. He hoped to encourage her further. “If you are an honest and loving wife, I promise you will want for nothing.” 

“Of course. I want do the right thing.” 

“That is good to hear,” he beamed with a greasy grin. “I’d hate to have to send you to a nunnery.” 

Gemma forced a small smile as she inwardly prayed for salvation. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James awakens.

At dawn, James woke slightly disoriented. He cautiously blinked his eyes open amidst the sounds of birds chirping and the smell of fresh air. The surrounding shelter was unfamiliar. Above him and to his right was nothing but sticks and tenting. To his right, Steven lay in a relaxed slumber on top of a pile of bedding. The understanding that he was no longer in the castle with no recollection of how he’d escaped, startled him, but when he tried to sit upright, the pain in his ribs impeded his haste. With a groan, he began to rise at a more deliberate pace. 

He briefly noted the bandaging around his chest before crawling over to where Steven was lying. With an abrupt shake, he rasped out, “Where’s Gemma? Is she here?” 

To say James was in a state would be putting it mildly. His eyes were frantic and even while kneeling on the ground, Steven could see the man was unsteady. “Lay down. You're not done healing. We have it on good authority she’s safe in the castle. We’re working on a plan.” 

James pulled on his clothes then stepped out from the tenting before tying up his breeches and slipping on the hooded cowl. Steven naturally followed him. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“There’s no time,” James explained. “I have to go back. She saved me from the noose by agreeing to marry that scoundrel tomorrow. That is, if he hasn't already done it.” 

“And what if he has?” 

“I’ll cut his fucking heart out,” he growled. 

Steven realized that not only was James not exaggerating, but that no one was going to be able to stop the lovesick knight. He began dressing himself. 

“You don’t have to come with me.” 

“You know I do.” On their way to the horses, they stopped by the weapons cache to gather their swords. Steven looked at the uniforms he and Sam had left lying there and picked them up as well, handing James one of the helmets. 

“What’s this?” 

“I have an idea.”

* * *

The same morning had started a bit sadly for Gemma. She woke from a pleasant dream where she had been back in the forest amongst all of her friends. They were sitting around the nightly campfire enjoying each other’s company as usual. James took her hand. When she turned to face him, they had been just about to kiss when she was rudely awakened by the entry of the chambermaid. 

After her basic needs were taken care of and putting herself into a lightweight, woolen dress, the next few hours passed very similarly to the previous one. She had had no other visitors and was hard at work on her embroidery when some sort of ruckus started up outside of the door. Men's voices could be heard, but they were muffled by the thick planks of wood. The noises were replaced by the sound of the lock being turned. A helmeted guard entered and approached her without warning. Another guard was dragging a body behind him. Thinking on her feet, Gemma darted to the fireplace and grabbed the poker holding it out in protection. “Stay away from me,” she warned. 

The aggressor froze and said, “Gemma, it’s me.” The man removed his helmet. 

She could hardly believe her eyes. It was James. 

Dropping her weapon, she rushed into his arms. “You came for me,” she cried before pulling back at the sight of the bruises and cuts still healing. 

His right hand went to her cheek. “Of course I did.” 

While she unconsciously leaned further into his touch, her brows furrowed in concern. “You’re hurt.” 

“I’m okay. Really. What about you? Has he harmed you?” 

With a small shake of her head, she said, “No, but I'd still like to drive a knife into that bastard’s heart.” 

“Evidently, there’s a line." They heard Steven’s voice as he continued dragging in the man behind him. From beneath the helmet, he panted, “I hate to interrupt, but I could use a little help here.” 

“What did you do to him?” Gemma couldn’t help but wonder. 

“I just knocked him out. He’ll be fine.” 

James reluctantly released his beloved. He helped gag the man and then tied up his ankles. Steven was finishing off the knots on his wrist when raised voices rang through the courtyard. Gemma rushed to the open window and looked out. 

The sound of Jack Rollins could easily be heard shouting. “There are two men impersonating the sheriff’s guards. Find them. Now!” The sentries dispersed at a run. 

“Now what do we do?” James asked Steven. 

He looked out, down towards the ground. “It’s too high up to jump and we don’t have any more rope.” 

“They’ll be checking everyone in uniform.” 

“I have an idea!” Gemma said. She had them pull off the black and grey vestments and stuff them under the bed along with the helmets as she rifled through her wardrobe. She came back to them and handed each a sleeveless surcoat. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” James said. 

“Do you have a better idea?” The men put their heads through the neck openings and let the skirts fall over their trousers. While they went about adjusting their swords to be hidden under the dresses, Gemma kicked off her slippers in exchange for the boots that had been left behind. 

“How are we going to hide our faces?” Steven asked. 

Gemma did some more rooting through her things until she found what was needed. Each man was given a shawl. She covered their heads, draping the fabric around and over their noses so as to hide their beards. 

She looked at her handiwork none too satisfied, though. “You’re obviously towering above me. Stoop a little, so you’ll look smaller. And pull in those big shoulders.” They adjusted their postures as instructed. Gemma couldn’t help but snicker at the sight of them. 

“I don’t see what’s so amusing about all this,” James grumbled. 

“That’s because you’re not standing where I’m standing.” Steven also joined her in laughter. 

“If either of you tell any of the others about this, I’m never speaking to you ever again.” 

“Don’t get your skirts in a bunch,” Steven cracked. 

James gave him a death glare while Gemma, pushed them both forward towards the door. “You need to escort me out of here. Keep your faces covered and channel your feminine side.” 

“I don’t have a feminine side,” James argued. 

"Oh, for Heaven’s sake” Steven said. “Just imitate your sisters.” 

“And who are you imitating?” 

“You.” 

James elbowed Steven in the ribs so hard it elicited a grunt. The blond shoved back. Gemma whispered harshly, “Stop behaving like children! I, for one, would like to get out of here with my head still attached.” She opened the door and they all exited. 

Not a few feet down the hall, they ran into one of the sheriff’s guards. “Halt!” he said, causing them to stop in their tracks. “Where are you going?” 

Gemma said meekly, “Brock has sent for me.” 

“Very well,” he said. But just as the trio was about to start off again, he held back Steven’s arm. He looked straight at the man and said, “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, lovely girl. Maybe later tonight you’d like to meet me in the gatehouse?” 

Steven jerked his arm away and croaked in a horrible falsetto, “In your dreams!” before they all walked away. 

The little group continued on with purpose as they made their way through the castle halls and outdoors. Unfortunately, they were stymied when they spotted the guards at the main gate checking each person wanting passage. Steven quickly redirected the group to the smithy. 

"Um. Mister Stark, sir?” Peter cried out when he saw the odd trio approach. 

Anthony turned his head towards the front stall and froze. He would recognize Barnes’ unusually icy blue eyes anywhere. “Kid, come and finish this for me please.” 

“Yes sir, Mister Stark.” Peter joined him by the cooling tank and took hold of the large set of tongs. 

“What in the hell are you up to?” Anthony whispered at James. Both he and Steven briefly removed the shawls from their faces. 

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Indicating Gemma with a tilt of his chin he asked, “I suppose this is Rumlow’s fiancé?” 

“Former fiancé,” she insisted. 

“Get away from my shop,” he warned. He did not welcome the thought of trouble with the sheriff. 

Steven pleaded, “We’ll be gone as soon as you help us get out.” 

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Hurry up and come 'round. For God’s sake, keep those ugly mugs covered.” He looked repeatedly over his shoulder as he shuffled the group through. 

Passing Peter, he said, “You don’t see anything, kid.” 

“See what, Mister Stark?” 

The fugitives were escorted to a small back room that had its own locked door within the castle wall. It was one of the lesser known entries normally only used for the blacksmith to dump waste into the outlying brush. 

“Thanks, Anthony,” James said, shaking his hand on the way out. “We’re in your debt.” 

“You have no idea,” he said, shutting the door and locking it behind them. 

The men hurriedly shucked out of their disguises and led Gemma safely away from the castle. 

* * *

“Jack, I find your brand of humor much to be desired,” Rumlow cautioned. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is no prank. The Selwyn woman is gone.” 

The sheriff shot out of his chair and scrambled over the desk causing Rollins to back up. But Rumlow was too fast. He landed close enough that he was able to grab the deputy’s collar, pulling his face close. 

“What do you mean gone?” he spat. 

Jack tried to pull back, but he was being held too tightly. “Her room is empty. We’ve combed through every inch of the castle and can’t find her anywhere. The rebels must have gotten her again.” 

Rumlow smacked Rollins upside the head and shook him. “How could you let this happen?” 

“My men...” 

“Your men are the biggest bunch of inbred baboons I’ve ever known! Do you have monkeys training them? Is that the problem?” 

“No, sir, I...” 

With a harsh shove, Rumlow pushed the objectionable man away. “This is your last chance, Jack. I want you to whip that team of yours into shape and fast. And when I say ‘whip’ I mean flog them if you have to. Mark my words, Robin Hood, Barnes and every one of their pesky friends will be exterminated if it’s the last thing I do.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Gemma have an important conversation.

They had managed to escape without being followed and thus, able to navigate the woods at a leisurely pace. James had seated Gemma on the saddle in front of him, his left arm draped around her waist while his right hand managed the reins. Feeling her so close was like a dream come true and he struggled against the desire to hold her even tighter. But, discounting the impropriety of doing so, the ache in his ribs had returned with the ebb of adrenaline leaving his body. James wasn’t sure he could take the additional pressure as much as he wanted to. That being said, he wasn’t about to let go either. 

Being held in such a manner, was having a profound effect on Gemma as well. Her one hand gripped the pommel for support whereas the other lay atop the one he had rested on her hip. Leaned back against the broad expanse of his chest, basking in the comfort of his warm embrace, she was dizzy with the contact but determined not to give in to swooning. She wanted to savor every second. Trying to forget that her bliss would have to end eventually, she imagined herself and James continuing to ride towards the horizon forever and ever. 

Steven, who had been trailing after them, caught up along their left and peered over to see how his injured friend was faring. If the expression James wore was anything to go by, he was transcendent. In fact, the pair of them were nothing short of drunk on love. Marking the euphoric grins on both their faces, Steven smirked then rode on ahead.

“I wonder what he’s so giddy about,” Gemma remarked. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” James muttered. 

The trio’s arrival at camp was greeted with elation, all thankful that everyone had returned unscathed. James dismounted before helping lower Gemma off of the horse. Dreading the loss of contact, he let his hands linger on her waist as long as he could but she was promptly wrenched from his grip and attacked by Marian’s squeezing hug. 

“I never should have let you go with Sitwell. I’m so sorry,” she cried. 

Seeing her friend upset unleashed all of Gemma’s pent up emotions as well. She started crying too. “You're not at fault, Marian.”

His hopes to have some time alone with Gemma dashed, James retreated to his tent. The pain in his side demanded attention he could no longer ignore. 

There had been a few changes to the relocated camp, Gemma noticed. The most obvious were the new shelters that had been erected. In the interest of time, they had forgone wattle-and-daub and were in the process of converting the perfunctory lean-to's into A-frame constructions. 

“I want to apologize to everyone for the upheaval caused by my blunder,” she said. 

“It was an honest mistake,” Clint said. Nat promptly stepped on his toes. “I mean, you were the victim. It could’ve happened to any of us.” 

Peggy seized Gemma’s attention next, not just to reassure her that she wasn’t to blame, but also to ask if she happened to learn anything while at the castle. An important item of gossip had, indeed, been shared by the chambermaid. Word of the Prince’s plot had gotten to King Nicholas. He promptly headed for home and was expected back on English soil any day. The Prince was told to be desperately scrambling for further support to permanently take over the throne. Additionally, during their tedious dinners Rumlow had openly mentioned Alexander’s ever-increasing pressure on him. Therefore, she was inclined to believe the rumor. The outlaws would have to pray for Nicolas’ return before Alexander had the means to start a civil war. 

Gemma retreated from the rest of the group as the conversation died down. She had watched James duck into his tent with some concern and decided to check on him. The tent flap was down so she called inside. 

Having stripped to the waist in order to inspect his injuries, he answered, “One moment.” James threw on his shirt and said she could enter. The hem had caught, inconveniently exposing the worst of the wounds. He was trying to cover it as she stepped inside but it was too late. 

“You _are_ hurt,” Gemma gasped. She rushed over to sit by him and shooed his hand away so she could look at the injury. 

“It’s nothing. Wanda left this for me,” he said, showing her the balm that had been provided.

“This isn’t nothing.” Taking it from him, she said, “Here, let me.” 

“Really. I can do it.” 

“Please, let me help you,” she said. 

Denying her anything when she supplicated would be nearly impossible. But he was momentarily unable to answer. His throat suddenly felt very dry. He simply nodded. 

“You’ll need to remove your top.” 

“Is that necessary?” 

“If you don’t want to get this stuff all over and have it rebandaged properly, then yes. It’s necessary.” She saw he remained hesitant. “If you're shy, you can always turn your back.” 

He snickered at the assumption. “It’s not that,” he admitted timidly. 

“You’re still worried about the arm? I'm not sure how to convince you of my sincerity, James. But if you put your trust in me, on my honor, I promise I won’t ever break it.” 

Unwilling to let her believe he had anything but the utmost faith in her, he acquiesced. As it turned out, Gemma quickly realized that seeing James’ bare torso was indeed bothersome, but not in the way he’d assumed. The disfigurement wasn’t at all what was troubling her. Instead, the hard muscles of his body defined by years of labor caused intense stirrings she’d never experienced before. 

Her fingers longed to trace the lines of chiseled muscles. But greater than the carnal thoughts racing through her mind was the desire to simply be held in his strong arms once more. She feared looking into the soft blue eyes that she had prayed to see again would be her undoing right then and there, for surely, she would throw herself at him in a most unladylike manner. 

Before she could be caught staring, Gemma quickly refocused on the task at hand. She gingerly dipped two fingers into the small jar, coming away with the strange, sticky brownish goo. There was an odd mix of herbaceous odors causing her to wrinkle her nose. When she dabbed the salve onto the scarring lacerations, James flinched. 

“I’m sorry,” she cooed. “Do you want me to stop?” 

James, finding words continued to elude him, could only shake his head. As Gemma repeated the process with delicate strokes, he bit his lip. But it was not due to pain. His heart, which he had presumed hardened against any promise of future romance, threatened to swell from his chest. The tender touches were restoking flames he'd let die out months ago. Given how well and how long he had denied himself those feelings, they threatened to easily burn out of control if not held firmly in check. 

Next, Gemma helped him rewrap his middle with the bandage. Being so close to his half-naked form made her extremely bashful. She was a silly, inexperienced girl who knew very little of the world and he was a man who had seen more of it than most would in a lifetime. Undoubtedly, he could sense her yearnings but also the lack of knowledge on how to behave as a woman should. Suddenly feeling very clumsy, the resulting strained silence between them became unbearable.

“I never properly thanked you for saving me,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

The unease which had come over her was obvious. The very opposite effect of what he had been striving for. His mind raced to find something, anything to appease her. 

“Don’t be silly,” James said softly. “You know, when we were in Acre, we heard a story about Saladin’s prized doves. Legend has it he will take two or three males wherever he travels in case he needs to send messages back home. You see, when they are separated, the dove will fly hundreds of miles to get back to its mate.” 

Tucking in the end of the bandage, Gemma said, “That’s a lovely story. But why are you telling me this?” 

In the moment it took for her to glance at him, he felt the instinctive pull to look away but he willed himself to hold steady. He looked upon her sweet countenance with the intent to let the image burn out his very eyes so he would only ever again be able to see the memory of her in that moment. 

Before he could lose courage, James took both her hands in his. He hesitated a moment in an attempt to calm his racing heart. It didn’t work. But he had enough wits left about to say, “Gemma, I will always come for you. I love you.” 

Continuing the locked stare, he raised her right hand and gently placed the knuckles against his lips. The breath was knocked out of her. 

“I can’t tell you how happy you have made me, James,” she stammered. “I love you, too.” 

All of his hopes, his dreams, his prayers; yet still he believed it was too good to be true. “You do?” 

“With all my heart.” 

Like her dream the night before, only better, James leaned in. He was just about to press his mouth upon hers when they were unceremoniously interrupted by Sam. 

Startled, Gemma instinctively sat back. She hid her face, embarrassed by nearly having been caught locking lips with a bare-chested man. Heat rose to her cheeks. She made herself look busy by replacing the lid to the stoneware jar. 

“There you are!” Sam said, completely oblivious to what was happening. “We have some news.” 

Gemma used the excuse to exit and hurried out of the tent. 

Sam called out after her, "There’s no cause for alarm." 

James hastily threw on his shirt, glowered and roughly pushed past him. “You really have the worst timing.” 

Throwing frustrated hands up in the air, Sam asked, “What did I do?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about Saladin's doves was taken from an episode of BBC's Robin Hood. There are historical accounts of him using carrier pigeons (aka rock doves), but from the little I read on the subject, training these birds has nothing to do with their mates. Regardless, because doves have a long tradition of being associated with love, I thought it would be a sweet story for James to tell Gemma.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the worse in Sherwood.

Upon leaving his tent, James saw the others were gathering around the fire pit, even though it had yet to be lit for the day. Briefly he wondered what they could be conferring about before he broke the standard informal protocol, bypassing Steven and Clint and heading directly to Gemma’s left. He smiled then took hold of her hand as he took a seat. 

Marian gave her a nudge and nodded at the jointure in question of what was going on. Gemma leaned over and whispered in her ear. Marian covered her mouth to stifle a squeal of pleasure. After having witnessed for herself that James was willing to put his own life in peril for the sake of her friend, Marian had developed a new warmth towards him. She decided no one could ask for more. 

Meanwhile, James was giving everyone else his infamous death glare as a warning to mind their own business. He then scowled at Sam, still holding a grudge for the earlier transgression. “What’s this news that is so important?” he asked. 

The reply came as a loud squawk from an overhead branch. 

All eyes turned upwards to look at the extraordinarily large raven. James said, “Ah.” 

Putting her hands over her heart, the superstitious Marian gasped, “Someone’s going to die.” She then made the sign of the cross over herself. 

“No one’s dying,” Sam assured her. “That’s one of Thor’s.” 

“Thor? As in the pagan god of thunder, Thor?” Gemma asked. 

Clint snickered and said, “So he claims. Everyone else calls him the Mad Viking.” 

“He’s a Viking?” 

Nat did her best to explain. “That’s what we assume. There’s a small band of Norse settlers in the north of Sherwood. They say he showed up out of nowhere one day. He insists he is the son of Odin, stripped of his powers and sent to Earth as a punishment. He says he can’t return home to his planet called Asgard until he learns compassion and humility. No one’s sure if all of the Norsemen believe him or not, but they've accepted him as their leader.” 

“I can see why he’s called ‘mad.” 

“He may be a little off,” Steven said with a tap of his fingers to his temple, “but he’s a good man.” 

Before either Gemma or Marian could ask further questions, the bird called out again. A jovial, booming voice could be heard off in the trees. “I am here, Muggin!” 

Turning to face in the direction from which the sound had come, Gemma stared hard through the foliage. Almost as if the ethereal god’s namesake was gradually taking on solid form before her, out from the shadows emerged the largest man she’d ever seen in her life. He looked like a giant. Now, both James and Steve were tall, broad men but Thor easily overshadowed them by inches. 

Clad in brown leather breeches and boots, she thought to herself that his legs looked like trunks of the trees in the forest come to life. The long russet tunic trimmed with simple gold braiding, seemed to struggle to contain the bulging muscles of his arms and chest. Around his waist, he wore a leather belt which held a pouch and dagger. Struck by the wild locks of reddish-blond hair and beard adorned with braids as well as his blazing blue eyes, she would otherwise have been afraid had it not been for Steven’s testimony as well as the Viking’s friendly demeanor. Contrary to his powerful and barbarous appearance, there was a wide, affable smile on his face. 

Everyone stood to greet him. Thor looked at both Gemma and Marian with a twinkle in his eyes and said, “It appears you have two lovely new additions to your group.” He took each of their hands to place a chaste kiss on their knuckles. The girls couldn’t help but simper at his surprisingly courteous mannerisms. 

James unconsciously put a possessive arm around Gemma. She whispered to him, “I don’t know where he came from, but that man is no barbarian. Mark my words.” 

“To what do we own this pleasure?” asked Peggy. 

“One of my men has had word from Danvers,” Thor informed her. “The sheriff is planning to clear the forest of all inhabitants within two days. He has sent a petition to Prince Alexander for more men to assist in this purge. The information has been confirmed by Stark. I believe that if enough of the rebels join together, we might be able to hold him off at least until your king returns. I have sent other men out to gather what forces we can.” 

“How long do we have?” 

“Less than forty-eight hours. I came as soon as I could.” 

“That’s not a lot of time, but you can count on us.” 

“Peg,” Steven warned. “We can’t speak for everyone on this. We’re talking about combat. Trained, armored swordsmen. Many, if not all, on horseback. This isn’t a caper to rob from the royal coffers.” 

He turned back to Thor and asked, “Is there a plan?” 

“Aye. Mothers, children and any others who cannot fight are heading to the abandoned monastery. They are joined by our healer and the lady Wanda who will tend to any wounded but they will surely need help,” he added looking at the women. 

Natasha said, “Peggy and I will go.” Both women turned to look at the remaining two. 

“I as well,” Gemma answered without hesitation. 

“Me too,” Marian agreed. 

“No argument this time?” Gemma asked. 

“Why waste my breath?” she answered with half a laugh. “Besides, I'm with you ‘til we get through this one way or another.” Marian took Gemma’s hand and squeezed it in solidarity. 

“For the rest of us, able men will be gathering near the edge of the forest directly west of the castle. Tomorrow evening should be enough time to convene. From there we can separate into smaller units and use ambushes to divide the army and draw them deeper into the forest. We need to level the playing field, as you say. If we can draw their army away from their defenses and into the woods, we’ll have a fighting chance. It’s the only way.” 

“You can certainly count on me,” Steven said. The other men all readily agreed. 

“I had little doubt that you would be with us, but I am glad to hear it nonetheless.” The raven descended and landed on Thor’s shoulder as a signal. The big man looked towards the sun and said, “I must take my leave if I’m to make it back before dark.” 

“You’re welcome to join us for the night.” 

“Your hospitality is most appreciated but there is much to be done.” With that, he wished everyone well before wandering off the way he had come, with the bird in tow. 

Steven turned to address the group. “We’re going to have quite a journey tomorrow. We should start packing what we need.” 

The men and women separated, each group collecting their needed supplies. James welcomed avoiding Gemma until he could get his thoughts in order fearing she’d beg him not to go. His own unease was great enough without the added struggle of resisting her entreaties. The distraction of checking and preparing their small weapons cache was exactly what James needed at that time. He dreaded having that conversation with her but it would have to wait. 

When they broke, later, for the evening meal, no one had much appetite. And with the majority of exchanges focused on their plans to separate, their supper passed as a somber affair. James had once again elected to sit by Gemma but could hardly look at her in order to evade the depressing conjecture that the next day could be the last he saw of her. 

Only later did he realize that similar thoughts were affecting everyone. After they had helped to clean up the supper, Steven asked to speak with James privately. 

Following him into their tent, James preempted the argument. “I know what you’re going to say.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do. I saw the look on your face when I told Thor to expect me tomorrow. You’re not going to change my mind.” 

Steven then adopted his definitive hands-on-hips stance taken whenever he was challenged. “I thought you were done with fighting other people’s battles.” 

“That’s just it, Steven. This is my battle too. I have no right to do less than anyone else. But my suspicion is that’s not what this is really about. Is it? It’s what happened in Acre.” 

“You weren’t in too good a shape when we found you in the dungeon, either. You have a bad habit of putting your own life at risk.” 

“I guess I never really thought of it that way.” He couldn’t help but snicker slightly. 

“And you’re not fully healed. No one’s going to think any less of you if you go to the monastery.” 

“I will, Steven. You know I couldn’t let my friends risk their lives without me by their sides. I can still shoot and wield a sword. Every fit man we can get is needed and I will be there.” 

James pushed aside the doorway’s covering and stepped back out into the night. There was one more discussion he needed to have without further delay. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James has a talk with Gemma and it doesn't go at all the way he expects.

The things Steven had said (or to put it more accurately, didn’t) riled him. James had been having enough trouble keeping dark thoughts at bay. He hadn’t welcomed an additional and unnecessary reminder that he’d very soon be heading right back into a life-or-death situation. But it had come regardless and thus he decided no more time could be wasted. He needed to talk to Gemma and make his intentions known before it was too late. 

He found her with the other women double-checking the supplies they would need for the next day’s trip. She hadn’t noticed his arrival. He popped his head through the tent opening and lightly placed a hand on the back of her arm. 

The small group paused and turned his direction. “Could you spare her a moment?” 

“We’re actually done here,” Peggy said. 

She finishing folding up the last of their spare blankets. It was then tossed onto the small stack in the corner that lay next to their own modest stash of weapons consisting of bows, arrows and daggers. One more glaring sign of the dangers they would all soon be facing. While there was no reason to think the items would be needed, James also knew that Peggy was nothing if not pragmatic. His features darkened along with those thoughts. 

Upon turning to acknowledge him, Gemma had immediately registered his disheartened expression. The corners of her own mouth turned down in response. 

Concerned, she stepped out beside him and asked, “What is it?” 

“Could we take a walk?” 

The assent came as a nod and her proffered hand which he took while leading her away from camp. As the brush grew thicker, she had to pull up the edge of her skirt in her free hand. The loss of her woodland outfit was growing increasingly inconvenient by the minute but she doubted there would be time to do anything about the dress until the conflict with the sheriff was over. 

The more pressing issue was James’ attitude, however. She had feared he would urge her to retreat to the safety of home and was sure the moment had come. As he led on at a rather brisk pace, she decided it would be best to speak her mind. 

“You’re not going to convince me to go home, James,” she said gently. 

“What? No. That’s not...Gemma, of course I want nothing more than your safety but I know there would be no persuading you to do something you truly didn’t want to.” He slowed his gait while he used that opportunity to make his own case. “It is in that same light I hope you understand why I’ve chosen to go with the others to fight. Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to ask you to run off with me somewhere instead but I just can’t.” 

“I hadn’t expected otherwise. Of course, we have a duty to our friends. If I could wield a sword, I’d be right by your side tomorrow.” 

Why he had doubted her empathy, he couldn’t say. In many ways, she was unlike any other woman he’d ever met, and yet she continually amazed him. "You really are an incredible woman.” 

Giving his hand a tender squeeze, she said, “I think you overpraise me but I can’t tell you how much it means that you regard me as such and do not treat me like a child.” 

Once the air was cleared between them, Gemma became aware that they had wandered well out of earshot of the others. They were completely alone. Her heart began to race and she felt warm all over. She had been wanting James to kiss her for far too long and they had found the perfect opportunity. He needed to do it soon before she took matters into her own hands and resorted to doing something brazen. 

Having also recognized their circumstance as well as experiencing similar sensations, James had come to the same resolution. He was determined to kiss her or die trying. 

Their stroll ended upon entering a small meadow covered in tall grass. The trees opened up to a clear sky full of stars and a nearly full moon. 

Gemma’s face instinctively pointed upwards and she gasped. “It’s so beautiful. Don’t you think?” 

The twinkling lights reflected in her eyes which tracked back to his. Staring unabashedly, James replied, “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“You’re not even looking at the sky, silly.” 

“Oh, that’s nice too.” He gently cradled each of her cheeks in his hand. “Gemma, darling,” he said softly. “Not to be overly dramatic but if I don’t kiss you right now, I swear I will perish here on this very spot.” 

Despite having wished for it, when the time came, she found herself wholly unprepared. Disregarding the lump which had formed in her throat, she managed to utter, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want that on my conscience.” 

Her eyes darted to his lips and for the second time that day, James moved towards her. 

He froze. 

Brows furrowed in confusion, Gemma asked, “Is something wrong?” 

“This is usually the part where I am thwarted.” He looked about and loudly announced, “Heaven help anyone or anything that tries to stop me from kissing this woman.” 

“James, really,” she giggled. 

His face grew serious and the amorous gaze soon returned. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too” she whispered back. 

The words had hardly left her when James, after the millennia of pining had finally passed, pressed his mouth to hers. The feel of his plush lips made her feel faint. Of their own volition, her arms wrapped around his neck as she instinctively melted into his arms and kissed him back. 

Those same arms wrapped around her, his hands pressing on her back to pull her tight. If his ribs were complaining, he didn’t notice. All he could focus on was her soft, sweet lips. Before he knew it, they were parting, inviting him in. 

The moment overtook them. Together, they sank down to their knees on weakened legs, kneeling on the damp verdant carpet beneath them. As their mouths began to explore, so too did their hands. Eventually, they both needed to come up for air. As they broke away, they smiled rather shyly and sat back in the grass. But it was only a matter of moments before their lips sought each other again. 

There had been more than a sufficient number of kisses prior to this in James’ life but none of them could hold a candle to the embrace he shared with the woman he loved. He felt the Earth move and his body floated up among the stars. There was nothing left in all of existence other than the two of them bonded together. 

When Gemma had told James she’d been kissed before, she hadn’t been lying but it had been nothing like this. In comparison, that had been child’s play. James was igniting in her something much more intense. Something womanly. She felt like she couldn’t get herself close enough to him. Her body grew desperate for more contact. 

James struggled to keep from going too fast. In addition to his own desire to savor the moment, he knew Gemma was a virgin. He didn’t want to do anything that might upset, or worse, frighten her. But the lengthy celibacy and his deep affection had caught up to him. She had pressed herself against him wonderfully tight. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t hide it. 

Feeling this, Gemma was caught off guard. To her knowledge, she’d never had that effect on a boy before, let alone a man. But the second after it was made known, her own body took over and responded in ways that surprised her even more. 

She gently moaned and kissed James harder still. In an instant, it was as though all her nerves were on fire. Yet, instead of needing to get away from the heat, she wanted more. Groping for James’ hand, she took it and placed it on her breast. 

He could hardly believe Gemma was responding in such a way. His mind went blank as he felt her soft flesh. As if through a fog, he willed the appendage to restrain itself but the signals of pleasure it was shooting to his brain threatened to overpower him. She lay back against the grass, pulling him along with her. Her hands were pressing on his backside as she writhed beneath him. His needs turned into a literal ache. 

James forced himself off of her and sat back, gasping for air. “I can’t. If this goes any farther, I’m not sure I could stop myself.” 

“And what if I don’t want you to?” she panted. Even in the shadows, he could see her eyes had grown darkened by lust. Knowing that she wanted him only made his problem worse. 

“Gemma, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

“I want you to make love to me.” 

He reared back as if having been slapped. “Oh, God. I hope you don’t think that’s why I brought you out here. I wanted some time with you but on my honor, I had no ulterior motives.” 

“I know that, James.” 

“Then why would you ask this here of all places?” 

She sat up then as well, looking at him directly in the eyes. “Because I love you and want you to be my first.” 

“Gemma, you are asking me to take your maidenhead.” 

“Is that all I’m worth; all I’m good for? My purity?” 

“No. Of course not.” 

“You wouldn’t be taking it. I’m giving it to you willingly. If it is mine, then I should get to choose what to do with it. Otherwise, it’s meaningless.” 

The argument was persuasive if not unconventional and, as usual, he couldn’t find the fault in her logic. In the silence that ensued as he considered her words, Gemma intertwined her fingers with his and added, “If I’ve learned anything over the past few days, it’s that we never know what’s coming at the next moment. After everything we’ve been through, in light of what we’re facing, I see no good reason to wait.” 

“Gemma, don’t you want to wait until we can wed?” 

Stunned, she asked, “You want to marry me?” 

“Are you surprised? If so, then let me make myself clear as of right now. The minute the sheriff separated us I knew the rest of my life would be empty without you and it tears at me that I have to part from you again. The only thing that gives me any hope is the thought of making a home with you one day. I have no idea how but should I be blessed with the chance to do so, you will never again go a single day doubting how very much I love you.” 

The emotion he had expressed while saying these words profoundly beautiful to her ears, shook her to the core. A flurry of feelings overwhelmed her. “James, I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say only that you love me. That is all I will ever need.” 

“I love you, James. You know I do.” The brief moment she’d had to think clearly brought a realization that perhaps she had made a grievous assumption. She lowered her head apologetically. “It seems I am the one who has been forward. I shouldn’t have taken for granted you would want this.” 

With one finger, he raised her chin and stared into her eyes. “Do not think for a second I don’t desire you but I am an honorable man. If I had the means, I would ask you to marry me in a heartbeat.” 

“Do you mean it?” 

“Yes. Truly.” 

"Then, let’s do it,” she said excitedly. 

He laughed. “How? I have literally nothing. No lands or money. I have no idea how we would live. There’s no ring...” 

“I have no need of those things if I have you.” 

“I don’t even know where to find the nearest priest.” 

“People wed every day without benefit of clergy. We need only to promise ourselves to each other.” 

“But if something were to happen to me, it might not be recognized later." 

“Then we keep it our secret until we can have a proper wedding.” 

“Maybe if we went back. We could exchange vows in front of witnesses at least.” 

“And then what?” 

_Yes, and then what?_ he thought. They wouldn’t have any privacy to consummate the marriage and it would all be for naught. It would have to be then and it would have to be between themselves or it might never be. 

Briefly, James stared at her, wondering if it was a dream. It was his wildest fantasy that she — beautiful, kind and generous not to mention born of upper class — would want to live the rest of her life with him. 

In his supposed delirium, he grabbed her arms to pull her close again. He kissed Gemma with a passion far greater than before and released her. 

A hand went to her chest as she sucked air back into her lungs. “What was that for?” she huffed. 

“I needed to be sure this is real,” he chuckled. 

The earlier racing of his heart was nothing compared to the pounding that had started up in his chest. He raked a hand through his hair as he tried to settle his thoughts. But he couldn't. All he could focus on was how very much in love they were and it could well be his last chance at true happiness. “You’re sure you want to do this now; out here?” 

“Just the two of us underneath this exquisite canopy of stars? I can think of nothing more romantic.” 

He had exhausted every method he could think of to provide Gemma a chance to change her mind. Once able to accept the fact that she was as resolute as he was, he grinned broadly. “I can’t believe we’re about to do this.” 

Given all the debating, Gemma needed a final assurance that he was of the same mind. “James, you must always be honest and tell me plainly what it is you wish. This is forever. Until death parts us and as far as I’m concerned even that won’t stop me from loving you. But if you don’t want to do this now, tell me.” 

He answered her by pulling her hands close to his heart and asking, “Gemma Selwyn, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” 

A wide smile spread across her face. “I will.” 

"Is that it? Are we married now?” 

“I think we should exchange the vows.” She inched herself even closer to him bringing them almost nose-to-nose. “Will you, James Buchanan Barnes, take me, Gemma Rose Selwyn...” 

His eyes widened in delight. “See, I didn’t even know your middle name. It’s perfect...” 

“Shh!” She placed two fingers against his lips. When he kissed them, she squeaked, “Stop it. This is serious.” 

Collecting herself she began again. “Will you, James Buchanan Barnes, take me, Gemma Rose Selwyn to be your illicitly wedded wife?” 

“I will.” 

“Now it’s your turn.” 

“Will you, Gemma Rose Selwyn, the most beautiful, incredible woman on Earth take me, James Buchanan Barnes, to be your humble and forever unworthy husband?” 

“I will. You may now kiss the bride.” 

That he did. 

* * *

Clint and Nat were in the process of snuffing out the evening fire when the couple returned to camp hand in hand. But it was obvious the infatuated pair hadn’t detected the presence of anyone other than themselves. Their friends stood by amused and watched as James and Gemma stopped in front of her tent. 

They turned and closed what little gap there was between them. A flurry of unheard whispers and giggles were exchanged before their compatriots became the involuntary spectators of a not-so-innocent kiss. The lovers then reluctantly parted and went into their separate abodes. 

Clint said, “That was...quite a show. They didn’t even notice us.” 

“I don’t think they know what planet they’re on by the looks of them.” 

“For Christ’s sake,” the archer snorted. “You and I are the only ones not getting it on around here.” 

Nat warned, “You even think about it, Barton, and I’ll make sure you never shoot straight again.” 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separating comes with a surprise.

None of the outlaws had slept well that night. Daylight brought with it the glaring harsh reality of what they would be facing. As soon as dawn broke, they all gathered the last of their necessities to leave behind yet another camp. Each of them silently wondered if they’d ever see it again. And while they tried not to think about it, they also questioned whether they’d lose any of their loved ones — for that is what they had truly become to one another — in the coming conflict. 

It had only been two days prior that Gemma had suffered through the fear of having seen the last of her friends. Not to mention worrying over James. And here she had to do it all over again once more because of the wicked Brock Rumlow. In her mind, King Nicholas couldn’t return home fast enough to rid the countryside of the sheriff’s evil presence. As the gang began making their way, she sent up a silent prayer for peace to soon return. 

Nat tried to get her to take one of the horses, but Gemma had insisted on waiting a turn to ride. That she wanted to walk with her husband was, of course, kept to herself. Despite the logical side of her brain telling her otherwise, she refused to believe it would be the last time. She had risen with a resolve to muster all of her remaining internal strength that day. So instead, she forced her thoughts back to the love they had shared the night before. More for James than herself. During their walk back to camp from the meadow, he had shared his fear of not being able to return to her. But, he had also said that if it were to be his last night on Earth she had made it the happiest he could have ever imagined. Heaven forbid If anything dreadful should happen, there was at least that memory to be cherished. 

In recalling these remembrances, she held onto James’ hand like a lifeline. The words “don’t go” continually threatened to spill over lips drawn tight to fence them in. Lord knew he had enough to worry about. Ignoring the idea that her heart was breaking with every step they took, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other as well as keeping her skirt out of the brush as much as possible. 

He knew exactly what was on her mind because he was having the same thoughts himself. Wanting to improve their spirits, as well as having a desire to hear the unbelievable words for himself, James whispered in her ear. “Good morning, Mrs. Barnes.” 

The reminder of their secret had her hiding an uncontrollable smile. However, as usual, they weren’t quite as sly as they’d thought. Unbeknownst to James and Gemma, by the time everyone had turned in for the night, they each had a good idea of what the pair had been up to. It had simply taken Clint and Nat telling Sam and Peggy what they’d witnessed. Marian had easily gotten most of the story from Gemma herself. And Steven had only to take one look at James to know what had gone on. The man hadn’t walked into their tent so much as floated. While no one else knew about the exchange of vows since they had all been aware that the pair had gone off together, they came to the only natural conclusion left. 

Sam, who had been walking behind them seized the opportunity to tease. “What are you two whispering about?” he asked in an evocative tone loud enough to make the others look. 

“Never you mind,” James grumbled. 

Steven gave Sam a proper shove in the shoulder as a signal to leave the couple alone. He couldn’t be happier about the relationship and would at any cost defend James against any further discouragement. 

Besides, as far as he was concerned, his friend had more immediate issues. Sneaking behind him, Steven gave a gentle tap to where the side was still bandaged. 

“Hey!” James yelled. The pain had greatly subsided but he couldn’t disguise the slight grimace that involuntarily resulted. 

“I knew it,” Steven crowed. “You really should...” 

“I’m okay. Leave it,” he warned, giving the blond a stern look. Turning his attention back to Gemma, James saw she was troubled. “I’ll be fine. Really. Don’t worry.” 

“That’s like asking the sun not to rise,” she answered. 

By the time they’d reached the abandoned monastery, it was midday. After the horses were dismounted, everyone began making their goodbyes. When James went to put his arms around Gemma, she could no longer contain the pool of tears that had settled in her eyes. She hurriedly wiped them away and took a deep breath to contain herself. He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips against her forehead. 

“When I get back, we’re going to make some plans, you and I,” he promised. 

Afraid that saying too much would stir her emotions again, Gemma simply answered, “Please take care. I love you more than you know.” 

“If it’s half as much as I love you, I’m the luckiest man in the world.” 

He gave her a long, soft kiss on the lips and was about to leave but she refused to let go. “Wait.” She removed the gold crucifix necklace she wore around her neck and reached to place it around his. 

“Gemma, I can’t take this.” Aside from the small pendant’s monetary value, he knew the symbolism was important to her. 

She gently shook her head and circled her arms behind him to clasp the chain together. “It’s just a loan. Make sure it gets back to me. You hear?” 

“I will.” James gave her a final kiss before walking off with the others. 

Marian went to her rescue, putting a consoling arm around her shoulders as they watched the men walk off. “It'll be alright.” 

“It has to be,” Gemma said looking earnestly at her friend. “Otherwise, I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

* * *

Anthony was under a lot of pressure throughout that day. With the arrival of the prince’s army came multiple orders to make repairs to their chain mail or replace sword blades. On top of that, he had Peter working diligently in the back room. 

Luckily, due to the urgent need, the sheriff ordered him to work through the night. Although he hated to drive the boy so hard, the situation had become desperate. They needed all the extra time they could get. 

“I understand, Mister Stark,” Peter said. “I’m glad I can help. I want to do my part.” 

The blacksmith put a hand on his shoulder, affectionately. “You know, I think it’s time I stop calling you ‘kid’. You’ve really turned into a fine young man.” 

“Thank you, Mister Stark.” 

“But you’re not so old that if you breathe one word of this to your aunt, I’ll personally tan your hide.” 

* * *

The remainder of the journey for the men had not been terribly far but they had to venture into a particularly dense area of Sherwood. They found Thor and his band in the late afternoon. There were many more Norsemen than had been rumored and some women had come along to join among them in the fight. 

“I’ve heard of some cultures training women, but have never come across any,” Steven said. He was fascinated. Indeed, they looked to be very capable of taking a man down, himself included. 

“They are some of our fiercest warriors,” Thor explained. “We have a saying, ‘Hel hath no fury like a woman scorned’.” 

“Has there been any word on how many men the prince sent?” Steven asked. 

The Mad Viking told him, “Stark’s message said two hundred.” 

“And how many do we have?” 

“A third if we’re lucky.” 

“Well, tomorrow will be as good a day to die as any,” Clint grumbled. 

“No day is a good day to die!” Sam whined. 

Thor added, “He also said not to worry.” 

“Don’t worry? Does he know something we don’t?” James asked. 

The self-proclaimed god merely shrugged in response. “It is still early, my friends. I pray to the Allfathers that many more are coming.” 

In those days, the forest covered a quarter of Nottinghamshire. During their months in Sherwood, tales had gone round that people had spread far and wide. Anyone coming from the northern or western borders surely wouldn’t be there before nightfall. Then there was also the question of exactly how far word had spread and who would actually join versus those deciding to flee altogether. 

The foursome set about arranging a small campsite for the night and went to procure themselves some food for supper. When they had returned from the brief hunt, there were dozens more men arriving. A good number were farmers from nearby manor who had heard the news and came to join with whatever they could find to serve as weapons such as axes and hatchets. 

* * *

The women had all worked together in the monastery to make sure the infirmary would be ready with the few resources available and that everyone was accommodated and fed. When evening rolled around, Gemma, Marian, Peggy and Nat were seated at the end of one of the long, wooden tables trying to imagine what nonsense the men might be talking about at that time. 

“They’re probably wondering the same thing we are,” Nat said staring directly at Gemma. 

“What’s that?” 

The other women all stared at her with knowing, suggestive looks. Suddenly, the room felt very warm to her. While she had overheard the occasional bawdy talk from her mother’s friends, Gemma had never been on the receiving end of it. She hid her face. 

"How in the world did you two find out?” she mumbled into her hands. 

Nat said, “Me and Clint were by the fire when you came back.” 

“We didn’t see you,” she stammered. 

“Yeah. We noticed.” 

A thought occurred to Gemma and she swiftly picked up her head. “God, you don’t think James would talk about...I mean...he wouldn’t.” 

Peggy put a hand on her arm to calm her. “No,” she reassured. “He wouldn’t. But you can be assured he’ll be getting more than his fair share of hounding.” 

“Speaking of which,” Nat interrupted. “I have many questions...” 

The mortified girl was thankfully saved by Wanda approaching with a small group comprised of a mature woman and three much younger. With similar features, it was easy to tell the foursome was related. They stopped in front of the table. Wanda said, “We’ve had some late arrivals. They’ve come a very long way. Could you see that they are taken care of?” 

“Certainly,” Peggy said although her face, with the others, registered some confusion. They weren’t sure why Wanda would seek them out specifically. 

The empath naturally sensed this. A sly smile spread across her face. She explained, “Let me introduce you. This is the Barnes family.” 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trying night apart.

Logically, Gemma understood that the series of misadventures which had befallen her were a direct result of the attempt to gain control over her life. But not one of them could compare to the distress she experienced when confronted with the women standing before her. When she thought back on her recent ordeals, there had been very few times when Gemma truly felt fear. The worst had definitely been when James was taken captive. Not until she’d come to face his mother had she ever been genuinely terrified. 

The words “Barnes Family” hadn’t fully registered with her at first, until the older woman said, “We understand you know James.” 

A strange buzzing sounded in Gemma’s ears and she was certain she couldn’t have possibly heard right. The vociferations of Peggy and Nat who then leaped from their seats, asserted the truth of it. The blood literally rushed from her face. Thankfully, the ever-faithful Marian had been there to catch her in a near faint. Wanda also came to her aid by brewing a pot of chamomile tea to calm her nerves. 

“Are you unwell?” a worried Mrs. Barnes asked. 

Speechless, Gemma only managed to shake her head. 

The first order of business had been everyone exchanging names. Gemma learned that Mrs. Barnes’ first name was Winifred. The elder daughter was Rebecca. Next was Elizabeth who preferred to be called Bess and lastly came Sarah. The girls’ ages were all within two years of each other, Rebecca being one year younger than her brother. James had been the single child to inherit their mother’s striking blue eyes but they all shared the same dark hair. 

_Hair!_ She fretted over her unseemly appearance. _Heavens, what a fright I most assuredly look_ , she grieved. It mattered not that everyone shared the same condition. Horrified over her atrociously disheveled state, Gemma tried to straighten the dirty, torn dress and fussed with her tresses. These corrective ministrations increasingly added to the poor girl’s anxiety about her unexpected first meeting with the mother of her husband. 

A husband who wasn’t there to introduce her. 

A secret husband. 

Marian noted her normally confident friend had been abruptly stricken mute and agitated. “You must all be hungry,” she said to the new arrivals. “We’ll get you something to eat.” She dragged Gemma away. 

Winifred’s eyes followed the girl who initially appeared to be ill then had suddenly grown fidgety. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with the poor thing. 

Leading her into the kitchen, Marian, in the meantime, kept a hold of Gemma’s arm lest she should again begin to wobble. “Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered harshly. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“That’s his family out there. His mother.” 

“We know that. Why are you acting as if you’ve had a fright?” 

“Because I have. What if they don’t like me?” 

"Well, if you keep acting like a weirdo then I can promise they won’t. Since when do you care about making a good impression?” 

“Since I got mar...myself involved with her son. I’m not sure what I should tell them if anything.” 

“If it were me, I’d keep my mouth shut. But what do you think James would want?” 

She was perplexed but recalled their promise and thought on how she might feel if the shoe were on the other foot. “He’d want to do it himself I suppose.” 

The relief in having made a decision made Gemma feel better yet there was still a part of her that feared she was being a bit dishonest. She tried to push the thought away while helping Marian prepare bowls of the soup that was barely warm at that point. They returned to the dining hall. 

The conversation they came back upon consisted of continued excitement over learning James was well and nearby. They were naturally distraught over hearing that he and Steven were off fighting again. So, Gemma felt vindicated in neglecting to add any more drama to the day. Her friends sensed this reluctance and, thankfully, also kept mum. 

While they consumed the meager supper provided, Peggy and Nat told them all that they could. Yet, with the keen eye that the mother of headstrong children has, Mrs. Barnes suspected something was amiss. “I think there’s more you’re not telling us,” she stated resolutely. 

“James was injured,” Peggy sputtered in an effort to throw her off the scent. “Rather badly. In Acre, I'm afraid.” Upon hearing the gasps and seeing their distress, she quickly told them the story and explained he blessedly hadn’t been crippled. 

Gemma admired the love and concern his family showed even when he wasn’t present. They were obviously all very close. She wondered how receptive they would be to an outsider infiltrating the tight-knit group. But before she could worry any further on that, the questions had apparently turned to where the Barneses had gone after James had left home. 

It happened that the night the sheriff’s men came to take Sir Batroc’s land, James’ father had sent his wife and daughters to her cousin’s in the north. Sadly, he never made it out of Nottingham alive. Hearing this, Gemma burst into tears, knowing James would take the news very hard. 

Mrs. Barnes put a maternal hand on the young maiden’s knee. “Goodness, dear. You shouldn’t take the plight of strangers to heart so.” 

“She’s had a trying few days,” Nat said. 

Winifred kept on comforting the girl, who she was sure at this point was touched, while Rebecca picked up where the story had left off. As Rumlow’s reign of terror spread throughout the entire shire, the family had nowhere else to go and followed the others into the forest. The sole reason the Barneses had traveled south that day was to join the resistance. They’d had no idea James was once again on English soil. 

“Even if we are finally rid of this sheriff, I’m not sure what that will mean for us but at least we will all be together again,” Winifred sighed. 

Although nodding in understanding, Gemma couldn’t help but question what that would mean for her own future with James. 

* * *

The squad of rebels had begun settling in for the night, trying to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the forest floor. James, however, sat entranced in contemplation by their group’s small, dying fire using a fat stick to poke at the orange embers. They would flare brightly for a moment before turning to grey ash and he couldn’t help but see them as some sort of allegory to his life.

A hand on his shoulder alerted him as Steven sat. “Can’t sleep?” 

“My thoughts won’t let me rest,” James admitted adding a shake of his head. Keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the others he said, “What the hell are we doing, Steven? I mean, if I was in my right mind, I’d walk right back to that monastery to get Gemma, settle down somewhere outside of Rumlow’s reach and keep looking for my family. Instead, I’m sitting here waiting to tempt Death once again. What’s wrong with me?” 

“I suspect the same thing that’s wrong with the rest of us out here,” Steven smirked. “We don’t want to live in a world where evil perseveres. We’re not the type who can sit idly by when there are things we can do to help.” Seeing those words had little effect, he added, “Honestly, I’m scared, too.” 

His friend’s face whipped around and looked him straight in the eyes. “Who said anything about being scared?” 

“Sorry. Poor choice of words. I simply meant you’re not the only one wondering if they’ll be seeing their loved ones again tomorrow.” 

James hung his head in contrition. “You’re right. I should stop my selfish bellyaching.” 

Steven placed his hand atop his friend’s shoulder again, this time giving it a slight pat. “You’ve every right. It’s called being human, pal. Just think, by this time tomorrow, all this should be over.” 

“One way or another,” James said glumly. 

“Things will work out, you’ll see.” 

“I truly do not understand how you remain so steadfastly optimistic.” 

“Don’t you?” 

“No.” 

“You’re the one who taught me to look on the bright side at all times.” 

“Me?” 

“I can’t believe you don’t recall. That’s just like you, I guess. Encouraging people, helping them overcome without even realizing the impact you have on their lives.” 

“Steven, what in the world are you talking about?” 

“When we were young. When I was sickly. You used to cheer me up by saying things like, ‘at least you got out of planting today’. Or you would remind me that just because I couldn’t do the same things my friends could that didn’t mean there weren't other ways to make myself useful.” 

He did remember but it was not in his nature to feel pride about the values with which he’d been raised. “That? I just didn’t want to get stuck with all the chores." 

The quip caused him to chuckle but Steven continued. “And you were the one who taught me how to stand up for myself and make myself stronger. I might not be here if it weren’t for you.” 

“Your penchant for drama overtakes you.” 

“Does not.” Steven gestured at himself. “In essence, much of this is your doing.”

“Oh no,” James snorted. “I’ll not take responsibility for creating a monster.” 

They spent a few more minutes laughing and reminiscing over childhood memories until James finally felt the weight of fatigue fall over him. The brief chat had relieved enough of his misgivings that he finally emitted a yawn. He crawled onto his bed for the night which had been made by layering branches and dry leaves to protect him from the cold ground. His cowl had been rolled up as a makeshift pillow. As he curled onto his side, he felt the cool metal of Gemma’s pendant slide across his skin. He pulled it free from his shirt, he thought of her while rubbing the cross between his thumb and forefinger until he lulled himself to sleep. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle in Sherwood Forest.

Two long bugle notes sounded before hoofs began beating across the wooden planks. Bruce Banner glanced through the window of his laboratory to see the sheriff and his black Destrier leading an armed troop across the drawbridge. Quickly, the determined metallurgist rolled up his sleeves, went back to his worktable, and carefully reviewed his notes. He collected numerous vials from which the necessary compounds were meticulously measured and mixed. The resulting tincture was noxious, threatening to turn his stomach even before it was ingested. 

He raised the glass in a mock toast, muttering, “For Nottingham,” before downing the green liquid in one gulp. A gagging noise erupted from his mouth. “Tastes like the devil’s anus,” he spat out, willing himself to keep the concoction down. The scientist sloughed off his protective robe, tossing it over the nearest chair, and made his way towards the dungeon. 

* * *

On the cots in the back room of the smithy where he and his apprentice had spent the night, Anthony woke as soon as he heard the commotion going on in the courtyard. The regiment comprised of the sheriff's guards and royal soldiers was ready and receiving instruction. 

With much haste, the blacksmith roused Peter. They slipped through the rear exit then traveled a secret, unmarked path to the hidden shelter that was only a few yards away. Swiftly but quietly, they stripped off the camouflage of sacking plus foliage to uncover the gigantic machine that had been secretly constructed over past months. Anthony opened the large access door and hurriedly ushered the boy inside. 

“Are you sure this is safe, Mr. Stark? We didn’t have a chance to finish testing it.” 

“There’s no time like the present.” He gestured for Peter to make a choice, “Right side or left?” 

“Right, is good. Unless, of course, you’d prefer—” 

“It’s fine, kid—” 

“I thought you were going to stop calling me that.” 

“Prithy, my good sir,” Anthony said with much sarcasm. “I would most appreciate it if you could take hold of the handles. Let’s get this hunk of junk moving.” 

* * *

A low, fog had rolled in overnight. The usually lush greens and browns of the woodland were muted by cloudy vapor. All was quiet save for the natural call of birds and the rustling of leaves. 

This bucolic lull was broken by two hooded runners racing through the mist away from a band of horses charging from behind. Their allies waited in the bushes witnessing with bated breath as the gap began quickly closing. 

The sheriff called out, “After them. The fools will lead us straight to the rebels!” 

Among those further from the greenwood’s border, deeper into the thicket, Steven and James bode seated with their backs against adjacent trees. At the sounds of their comrades scampering down the hillside, the friends first looked to each other in unspoken support. 

A shout came from the front line. “They’re coming!” 

As they quickly rose to their feet, readying their bows, James could hear Clint and Sam also getting into position perched in the branches above them. More men on the ground and in the trees were scattered about on either side casting as wide of a figurative net as possible. 

The pair under pursuit ran for the safety of the forest. Fifty yards before the treeline, they suddenly veered apart from each other. The riders behind them had no time to redirect their mounts before the ground gave way to a large pit beneath them. When their quarry reached the verdant border, they watched the renegades duck and roll underneath the barricade that had been erected overnight, disappearing into the brush. 

A good portion of the remaining riders ran into this barrier of vines and branches as those behind pulled up. Arrows began to fly at them from all directions. In order to attack, they would have to abandon the horses. Rumlow shouted for the archers to press forward and start shooting. 

“Where?” one of them hollered back. “We can’t see ‘em.” 

The foot soldiers were then ordered to charge with their swords. While these men worked to hack their way past the barricades and the rebels continued their barrage of arrows, a sound like no other began reverberating through Nottingham. From behind the northwestern wall of the castle, emerged the most unbelievable sight. An enormous man made of steel, standing over ten feet tall, lumbered slowly towards the battleground. 

“What in the hell is that?” James gawked. 

Not unlike their enemies, the rebels had no idea what the contraption was or who was controlling it. Those archers from both sides who were in close proximity unleashed a multitude of arrows upon the monstrosity. This had no more effect than dealing out a few dings and scratches. 

Inside, Anthony and Peter frantically worked at the primitive controls trying to maneuver the unwieldy limbs. Its great metal arms began to swing, targeting the armored men on horses and knocking them about one at a time. 

Rumlow shrieked and galloped off as fast as the fleet-footed Crossbones could carry him. 

If this turn of events hadn’t been fantastic enough, out from the castle’s tunnels a madman rushed towards the fracas at a breakneck pace. It was Banner with rage in his eyes, easily wielding two extremely large broadswords. “You guys are so screwed now!” he shouted as he charged them from behind cutting men down at an alarming rate. 

Clint shook his head. “None of this makes sense but I’m glad they're on our side.” 

* * *

The clang of steel against steel resounded as James held his knightly sword with two hands blocking Rollins’ attempted to strike down with his own. If he hadn’t already been weakened by his still-healing wound, the attack would have been much more evenly contested. As it was, James was overpowered and forcefully pushed back. He sat hard and before he could get up on his feet, Rollins gave out a swift kick directly where his grievous injury had previously been inflicted. The villainous deputy sneered with malicious satisfaction hearing his victim cry out and instinctively curl over to protect himself. 

“Not so tough after all, are we Barnes? There'll be no going easy on you this time.” 

James scrambled backward in a frantic effort to get away but succeeded only in butting up against the trunk of a tree. Even though he knew it was too late, his hand intuitively reached for his dropped weapon. 

Rollins stepped closer still and swung the sword high overhead. “I only wish the sheriff were here to see this.” 

He was interrupted by Sam’s voice coming from above. “Man, shut the hell up,” he yelled. 

As both men looked up at his spot in the tree, Sam let his arrow fly, the head of which cleaved right through Rollins’ mail and into his chest. He fell to the ground without another word. 

James seemed to struggle to get upright, so Sam dropped down to offer assistance. No sooner had his feet touched the ground, however, then he suddenly ducked having heard the sound of nearby limbs breaking and falling from the trees. Something large flew past them at such an alarming rate he couldn’t even see the object as it continued its destructive trajectory. 

“What in God’s name is happening here?” James wailed. 

* * *

Thor hadn’t felt the familiar handle of Mjolnir in his grasp in a long while. The weapon’s absence had felt akin to losing a trusted friend. It's return not only signified his being found worthy once more, but restored his abilities. A satisfied smile grew across his face as he watched the Asgardian silver armor plating form itself around him. He could feel the godly powers flowing through his veins. Everyone standing around him, friend and foe alike, stopped and stared in awe at the magical site unfolding. 

As soon as the transformation was complete, he beat a path out of the woods, easily deflecting any of the pitiable sword blows bestowed upon him. Clearing through the brush, he stood in front of the remaining mounted men. With a mighty blow, he struck Mjolnir to the ground, knocking down everything within a one-hundred-yard radius. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones affected. Anyone and anything that had been standing was thrown off of their feet. The giant made of metal also went crashing to the ground. Thor prepared to again make another throw as he waited to see who would emerge. 

Slightly wobbly from having been unexpectedly thumped about, Peter crawled out first. Anthony followed directly behind, seeing Thor twirling the mighty hammer.

“Ho there, Goliath! We come in peace,” he shouted.

While the enemy began to right themselves, another bugle blow from off in the distance caught the attention of all. A company of armored men came galloping down the King’s Road from the south. This one, however, carried Nicholas’ royal banner. 

The minute the king had returned to the castle, he ordered small battalions to be sent out to Nottingham as well as the other shires that had fallen under Alexander's clutches. Whether considered fortunate or not, the usurping prince had already fled into exile. 

Although absolutely everyone else had stopped to face the king’s commander, the beast that was Bruce continued to rampage through the woods in search of more enemies to smote down. Peter turned to Anthony. “I don’t think he’s regained his faculties yet, Mr. Stark. What should we do?” 

“I shall see to this,” Thor declared, stomping back into the brush. “Banner! I would have a word with you!” No one could see what was going on, but they all listened to the heightened disruption until the Mad Viking re-emerged, this time with the man slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. 

He laid him down gently by Anthony’s feet. “I’m sorry. I had to knock him out. It was the only way.” 

Seeing that there were no further disturbances, the king's royal commander called for order. Those who had been conscripted by the prince were gathered before him, followed by the outlaws coming out from the woods. He announced, “Our rightful sovereign has returned to his throne. His highness has decreed that those who surrender immediately, shall be met with sympathy and leniency.” Not a single one hesitated in laying down his sword. 

“Furthermore, all lands previously seized by order of the prince shall be returned to their lawful owners. As of this day, Brock Rumlow is removed from the Office of Sheriff. Any and all arrest warrants issued during his tenure are hereby rescinded.” 

Thus, the rebels of Sherwood were freed from their oppressors. They gave out such raucous cheers the likes of which had never before and have never since been heard in the town of Nottingham. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The former outlaws go back to the monastery.

The jubilant shouts and applause naturally wound down. The royal army organized themselves to make their return. The rebels tended to their injured comrades and began to leave Sherwood. 

Steven noticed James cradling his left elbow with his opposite hand. “What’s wrong with your arm?” 

“I think my shoulder is out of place.” 

“What does that mean?” Clint asked. 

“Slipped away from the joint,” Steven answered. He gently felt for the tell-tale protrusion but found none. With a slight shake of the head, he pronounced, “I think it’s merely separated.” 

“Well, it hurts like the devil,” James winced. 

Steven removed his hooded cowl and sliced it apart to fashion a sling in order to immobilize the offending appendage. The other men stood by, impressed at his handiwork while a final knot was tied around James’ neck. 

“We had to do a lot of our own field dressings in Jerusalem,” he explained. 

Once James regained his composure, he picked his sword off of the ground and began pushing his way through the other rebels who were crowding the open field. 

“Where are you going?” Steven hollered after him as they all followed. 

“To find Rumlow.” James tracked down the commander thinking his nemesis would be in custody but the man in black was nowhere in sight. 

“Where is he, sir? Where’s the sheriff?” James demanded. 

"I’m sorry to say that the coward is reported to have run off. What would you have with him?” 

“I’d have his damned hide,” James growled. 

“If it’s any consolation, he is now a wanted man for crimes against the crown.” 

It was little compensation for the persecuted man. There were further grumbles of displeasure as Sam tried to console him. “It doesn’t matter. The fight is over.” 

“Yes, we have been victorious over the prince and his lowly minions,” a booming voice thundered from behind them. The four friends all turned, still rather amazed at Thor’s transformation. “And so, it is time for me to bid thee farewell.” 

He shook each of their hands in turn. Steven said, “You really are the God of Thunder. I’m sorry we didn’t believe you.” 

“Not to worry. We are all too familiar with the limited understanding of mortals.” 

“Does this mean you get to go home now? To Aslandia?” Clint asked. 

“Asgard. And yes, I believe so. Let us see.” 

He stepped a few feet away, lifted the giant hammer and told them, “I wish you all peace and prosperity.” Then he looked up at the sky and called out, “Heimdall, take me back!” 

A great shaft of multihued light came down from the sky and engulfed the god until he could no longer be seen. The phenomenon dissipated and Thor was gone. 

“I wonder what that means,” Sam said, staring at the circular runic symbol left behind on the scorched earth. None of them having any theories, they agreed it was a good time to take their leave as well. 

A large number had proceeded them along the beaten path. The morning’s fog had long been lifted and under the midday sun, all was returned to its vibrant glory made more beautiful by the lightness of James’ heart. While his friends slowly began to feel the stress of battle leaving them, allowing fatigue to set it, this was not so for James. He walked along contentedly appreciating the bright blue sky above and the green grass below. If it weren’t for his injuries, he could have run all the way to the priory. As it was, he and Clint would once again have to suffer Sam and Steven’s incessant chatter for the few miles of required travel. But if that was to be his final penance for a lifetime of happiness, he would gladly pay it many times over. 

* * *

Forest and field began to empty as the king’s men headed south along the road, back towards the capital. From his hiding spot, Rumlow spied the rebels as they left the forest behind. The majority were going north. He surmised there had to be a good reason so many of them would travel in that same direction. Following the precedent set by the outlaws, he remained stealthily camouflaged in the brush watching for further evidence. It wasn’t long before he figured out that they were going to meet the rest of the fugitives. The women and children most likely. 

Still, he waited. Eventually, Barnes and his cohorts came trudging past. Rumlow realized that following James would lead him straight to Gemma. Then it would only be a matter of time until he could catch the bedraggled knight alone and be rid of him for good. 

* * *

The foursome turned onto the path leading to the monastery and James did then break into a trot despite the additional discomfort it caused. Hearing the taunts of his friends behind him, he turned and offered them a wide smile. “Make fun all you want. I care not,” he hollered before resuming his direct course. 

Many yards later when he reached the grounds, James had come up against yet another large crowd of people. This one reuniting with their loved ones. Trying to avoid jostling his injured arm, he carefully waded through the throng focused only on finding one particularly pretty maiden’s face. It was for this reason he didn’t see the gang of rushing women until they were nearly on top of him. 

He froze in his tracks not quite sure he could believe his eyes. When he heard his name come from his mother’s lips, perceiving they truly stood before him in the flesh, he broke down crying. 

Hearing the commotion started by the Barnes women, Gemma could only stand by and watch as they surrounded James. He had yet to see her. With all her willpower she held back the natural instinct to throw herself into his arms in deference to the family. They were all smiling and clung to him as if afraid he could vanish. She knew exactly how they felt. 

They had all started crying over again but this time with aspects of desolation. Mrs. Barnes wrapped James in another maternal embrace to comfort him. He had presumably just been told about the loss of his father. She wondered if they had been close and realized how much she had yet to learn about her husband. 

Although the young maiden recognized she’d been forgotten in that moment, she could not begrudge James this small transgression in light of the magnitude of the reunion. In the meantime, she would wait patiently and welcome back her other woodland defenders. 

It was a good thing, too, that Gemma was preoccupied as James’ conversation with his family eventually proceeded to take quite an odd turn. The dwindling over-excited emotions allowed his initial objective to return to the forefront of his thoughts. 

“You’re not going to believe this,” he revealed. “But I’ve met someone. Someone very special.” 

“Heavens,” Winifred said. “When did this happen?” 

“Only a few days ago.” 

“You mean one of your friends from the woods?” 

“She is much more than a friend. So, you must have met Gemma.” He reckoned if they had, not only had they already been apprised of the relationship but surely, she had won over their hearts just as she had done his. 

“The simple girl?” Rebecca asked. 

“What? Why would you call her that?” he asked, confused. 

“Brother, she hardly speaks and when she does, she stammers,” the youngest daughter said. “Plus, she looks like a frightened cat.” 

“Don’t forget the swooning,” Bess reminded them. 

James was thoroughly aghast. “Whatever are you going on about? There is absolutely nothing the matter with her.” 

“Of course not, James.” Mrs. Barnes gave his hand a pat. “We all know The Good Lord bestows different gifts upon each of us.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I think there's been some misunderstanding.” He pulled himself away. “I must find her.” 

This search, of course, took a mere moment as the girl in question had been standing nearby the entire time, unwilling to distance herself any further from the man she loved. Taking her hand, he gave her an innocent kiss on the cheek since mother and sisters were hot on his heels. 

Gemma observed Mrs. Barnes carefully, not at all able to guess what, she might be thinking. There was only the slightest hint of amusement on the woman’s face though her daughters giggled. Whether this expression was from pleasure or disdain, Gemma could not tell. 

James noticed the odd expression on her face. “Are you unwell?” Indeed, she did look skittish, her eyes darting between him and his mother. 

“Yes, I’m fine. You, however, have managed to add to your injuries, I see.” 

“It’s merely a sprain. There’s no need to fuss.” His hand was at her back then and could feel her tension increase the closer his family neared. 

“What’s wrong?” he wondered. Surely, nothing untoward could have happened between the women in so short of a time. Gemma’s chin was down and she looked up shyly at his mother. He had never seen her cower before anyone — even the terrible Rumlow — and could not imagine what would cause the reaction. 

“Excuse us a moment,” he said to the family before leading Gemma out of earshot. 

Turning their backs, he asked her, “Whatever is the matter?” 

“Oh, James,” Gemma whined, nearly in tears. “I’m afraid they don’t care for me very much and it’s all my fault.” 

“What? Don’t be silly. They’ve hardly gotten a chance to know you.” 

“I’ve been a nervous wreck ever since they got here." She grew agitated and began rambling. “I didn’t know if I should tell them anything about us, so we kept everything a secret and that just made it worse and now they think I’m a right dolt.” 

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “There’s no need to fret. We’ll clear this up in no time.” 

“No, James. Really.” She resisted as he tried to lead her by the hand. 

He let her go. “Alright. Wait here then.” He ran off and began talking with the other Barneses. His mother frowned and her brow furrowed as James spoke animatedly and made gestures towards Gemma. 

Presently, the entire group walked towards her. As much as she wanted to pick up her skirts and run, Gemma stood firm and awaited her miserable fate. 

Winifred said, “My word, child. I wish you had said something to me sooner.” 

“I...well...you see...I thought James would want to tell you himself.” 

Coming to her rescue, he put an arm around her and announced, “Quite right. You see, she’s my...that is to say, there’s going to be a wedding just as soon as we can arrange it.” 

While her daughters squealed and clapped their hands, the older woman looked sternly at the maiden and said, “Then I have to say how very sorry I am to have asked you to call me Winifred.” 

“Ma!” James cried out in protest. 

The matriarch raised her hand to quiet him, which it did instantly. “James Buchanan Barnes, this is between myself and Gemma.” She looked at the young lady in question, smiled warmly and said, “I would really rather like it if you would call me Mother.” 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonders never cease.

James almost regretted clearing up the misunderstanding between Gemma and his family. His sisters especially wouldn’t leave the two of them alone afterwards. There seemed to be no end to their questions wrapped up in the romantic story and they were giddy with the discovery that their own big brother was capable of such ardor. 

When he could wait no longer, he conveniently remembered his injured shoulder. “I should go see Wanda before this gets any worse.” 

Picking up on his cue, Gemma took his free hand and assured them, “I will make sure he is seen to.”

She gathered up his bow and quiver in order to take his free hand. They then made their way through the hall. Once out in the passageway, James promptly pulled her aside into the shadows of a recessed doorway. The weapons dropped from Gemma's hands and clattered onto the ground. She grabbed onto his shirt to brace herself as he spun her to face him. 

“What are you doing?” she squealed. 

With his right arm wrapped tightly around her waist, he pulled her closer. Pressing her against his slung arm caused him to grimace momentarily, but he ignored the pain. “I mean to properly kiss my wife, that is what.” 

He pressed his lips to hers. Between the kisses he then began raining along her neck, he murmured, “I love you Gemma Barnes.” 

She was starting to lose her senses but cognizant enough to fear being caught at making love out in the open. In a religious house of all places.

He eased up only when she said, “I cannot seem to hear that enough.” 

“I love you?” 

“That, yes. But the other as well.” 

James moved to kiss her again but she put a hand up to block him. Underneath his shirt, her fingers traced the outline of the cross pendant. 

“Ah, yes,” he said. “You’ll need to help me remove that.” 

“I'd like you to keep it.” 

“No. I couldn’t take this from you.” 

“Please. You need it more than I. It would ease my mind.” 

He held her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “I suppose if I could be persuaded to wear a dress for you, I could oblige you in this as well.” 

With another laugh, she said, “You, my love, are incorrigible. Now, let us waste no more time in seeking Wanda. If I can keep you out of trouble for more than five minutes, perhaps you will actually have a chance to heal properly.” 

She again collected the fallen equipment. Reclaiming his right hand in her left, they stepped into the expansive cloister which offered the most direct path towards the infirmary. They had just reached the neglected lawn when a blood chilling scream resonated across the courtyard. A figure in black came charging out from the other end. The few people who were about, fled from the maniac into the safety of the building. The plighted pair watched, stupefied, at the ousted sheriff who was brandishing his sword and heading straight for them. 

“The girl is mine, Barnes!” he shouted. Rage emanated from every portion of his being, culminating in the grotesque wickedness carved into his visage. 

"Run Gemma,“ James ordered, attempting to push her away. 

He reached for his own blade, yet she saw his slung arm made it difficult to draw. Without a second thought, Gemma quickly dropped the quiver and retrieved an arrow before righting herself. Rumlow was over sixty yards away but approaching fast. She hastily assumed position, aimed and let the shaft fly. 

There was a horrendous cry of pain from the attacker having been struck in the arm. He dropped his sword then stopped to pull out the arrow. Blood gushed from the wound but, in his frenzy, he did not hesitate to reach for the double-edged dagger slung on his belt. 

In the meantime, Gemma had readied another arrow. Perceiving that he was still armed, still advancing, fright was able to take hold. This, and the fact that she had never practiced with moving targets did her discredit. She could not steady her shaking hands and did not know how to anticipate Rumlow’s movements. There being no time left for her to improve her situation, she released. Her heart sank as he dodged the shot. 

Noting that while she had missed, the assault was at least slowing him down, Gemma prepared again. 

As the deranged man resumed his progress, poised to strike, James was finally able to unsheathe his sword. Knowing that only one man would come from this bout alive, he took a protective step in front of Gemma and pointed the steel blade towards his rival. Rumlow had to halt abruptly to keep from running himself through. Taking a step back, his feet tangled with the overgrown weeds on the ground. He staggered backwards. To his great misfortune, he stumbled into the base of a dilapidated statue of Saint Jude the Apostle*. The madman fell against it with such force as to loosen the carved stone off of its pedestal. It toppled over directly on top of the former sheriff, flattening him below. 

The couple rushed to his aid. They struggled to remove one of the largest pieces crushing the wretch’s chest but it was too late. His injuries were far too grave. 

In his final moments, as his lifeforce swiftly trickled away, he glanced up at them and sputtered, “She was mine.” 

“That’s what you failed to understand, Rumlow,” James replied. “Gemma belongs to no one.” 

* * *

Towards nightfall, many of the rebels began leaving the monastery behind to return to their homes. Still a good number stayed having yet to determine where their future might lie. 

Those who had departed had left behind what provisions they could for the remaining transients. And in seeing everyone’s mood diminishing, Steven thus proclaimed, “We deserve to celebrate.” 

The feasting (if the paltry victuals could be so defined) passed merrily. Natasha having fetched Clint’s lute so that they could have music, was jokingly admonished by Peggy. “We were to only bring what was necessary.” 

“We are performers,” she argued. “Our tools are essential.” 

Of course, everyone was more than happy with her slight infraction once the music started. All were thus compelled to elevated spirits and joined in either singing or dancing along. 

During the festivity in the refectory that night, Marian had been noticed by Gemma to be flirting with many of the eligible bachelors. When asked about this, it was explained that she and Sam had agreed to simply remain friends. It was then the maiden realized he had been trying to woo each of the Barnes sisters at the risk of his own safety. Eventually, James had had enough and could be seen running the would-be suitor out of the building. 

The revelry all came to a standstill, however, when arrived three persons bearing the vestments of royal colors. The one female of the trio bustled through the gathering and climbed on top of the nearest table to get everyone’s attention. 

“I am Captain Maria Hill of the yeoman of the king’s guards. I am here by order of his highness, King Nicholas.” She waited for the murmurs of the crowd’s speculations to cease. “Those persons who defied the usurping prince and his appointed sheriff, hereby staying loyal to the crown, will be receiving varying forms of recompense to be measured out over the coming days. At this time, I am in search of two particular knights. Rogers and Barnes.” 

James panicked thinking they would be seized and forced back into service without so much as a by-your-leave. Or perhaps they had somehow already received word of Rumlow’s demise and would have him arrested. Before he could decide what to do, Steven stepped forward. 

“We are here,” he said, introducing himself and James. 

They were led into one of the old offices away from prying eyes. Captain Hill told them, “You might be interested to know the palace had a most unusual visitor last night.” 

Steven and James looked at each other, neither knowing who she could be referring to. 

“Prince Thor of Asgard. Apparently being of royal blood and himself a warrior, he wanted to ensure the king be apprised of the good and noble deeds performed by his knights. Therefore, in his lordship’s effort to make reparations for his brother’s regretful actions, he is rewarding each of you commensurate with your commission in Jerusalem and in aiding the peoples of Nottingham. You have not only proven yourselves worthy of the title Knight of The Realm but have gone above and beyond that call of duty.” She paused to address Steven directly. 

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are hereby assigned to the office of High Sheriff of Nottingham. You are expected to report to the castle first thing tomorrow morning to assume this post.” 

Flabbergasted, the typically wordy man was at a loss. He could hardly believe his ears. “You're not serious?” 

“I assure you, I am.” 

“You know, I’d make a lot of changes around here.” 

“We’re counting on it.” 

As Hill passed over the royal order bearing Nicholas’ signature and seal, Steven gave his thanks and bowed his head in acceptance. 

The messenger then looked at James and said, “James Buchanan Barnes, in consideration of an outstanding act of bravery and the resulting impairment, you are hereby released from duty. A demesne has been awarded to you, portioned out from Rumlow’s former land holdings.” 

His eyes went wide. “Do I understand correctly? You are giving me land?” The words came out barely above a whisper. 

“It would seem so,” Hill said, handing over the rolled and bound charter. 

James took it in hand, staring at it in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say other than thank you.” 

“Very well, gentlemen,” Hill said curtly. “I wish you luck in your future endeavors.” And with that, the meeting was drawn to a close. 

Both men again bowed in gratitude and deference to the yeomen’s rank. On their way out of the room, Steven looked at James and clapped him on back. “It seems we have received our just rewards at last.” 

“That’s Lord Barnes to you, Sheriff.” 

The two childhood allies laughed at their good fortune then sought to share the news with their friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Known as "’The Saint for the Hopeless and the Despaired’ and ‘The Patron Saint of the Impossible’...Roman Catholics invoke St. Jude when in desperate situations.” (source: https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=127) 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And she said James was the one that needed to be kept out of trouble...

The knight’s fee was modest by most standards. James was thankful for this, not only because it was more than enough to provide for his family but because he hadn’t the first clue about how to manage an estate. However, he did have some thoughts about how to govern it differently. For one, he would institute an equitable distribution of resources. But the ennobled knight didn’t know how to go about putting it into practice. He’d have to rely on Gemma’s experience and hope that, together, the manor would prosper. First, he had to get her there as soon as possible before he made a fool of himself. 

There were a few tenants who recognized him from the battle in Sherwood. They were very welcoming when he showed up with his mother and sisters in tow. That curbed much of his anxiety and he hoped they would help the other established residents more readily accept them. 

The manor house itself had been abandoned from the time when Rumlow made residence at the castle. Although starting to fall into disrepair, the work needed was nothing James couldn’t handle and there were enough rooms to hold everyone comfortably until they could add on. 

That was a concern for later. His family needed to be settled and then he would visit the Selwyns. This had the unfortunate outcome of having to separate from Gemma yet again. She and Marian had returned to her parent's home. He would meet her there in the next day or two to officially ask for her hand before they planned the wedding. 

In the meantime, his mother and sisters tidied their new home while he took stock of his holdings. The property was not entirely self-sufficient, focusing mainly on farming. Many trade and craftworks were typically procured from Nottingham Castle given its close proximity. In addition to the benefit of James feeling the small parcel of land more within his abilities to manage, this would offer plenty of opportunities to see their friends. For Steven had not only provided an apartment for Peggy until they could wed, but he had made Sam his deputy. He hadn’t forgotten Clint and Nat either. The pair was given the responsibility of all the castle’s entertainments. 

There being no time like the present, the household’s need for supplies and the dire need for fresh clothing was the perfect excuse to return to the citadel later that day. 

* * *

A young girl, who was presumably the new housemaid, stopped in the middle of cleaning the hearth and stared unabashedly at the two sullied women who had walked in. Gemma knew that she and Marian looked ghastly. The state of her dress had evolved from merely a muddied and frayed hem to completely soiled and torn. And her counterpart still donned the shirt and pants of her woodland garb. When they found her mother in the kitchen giving out instructions, Mrs. Selwyn took one look at them and fainted dead away. 

Marian fetched a cup of water while Gemma patted her mother’s hand. The woman was quickly roused. 

“We’ve been so worried,” she said. “After the deputy came looking for you and told us you’d been kidnapped. Were you harmed?” 

“We weren’t taken, Mother. We ran.” Before she began to explain, her father came running in and swept her up in a tight embrace. 

“I’m so glad you’re home. We were starting to fear the worst. The wildest stories are going through the village today,” he said. 

She told them the whole story starting from their flight into the woods and ending with the sheriff’s demise. Her parents were, not unexpectedly, upset about her rejection of Rumlow and, in their opinions, the histrionic overreaction to the situation. Further, they admonished her for releasing Marian who was now left at loose ends. This was when she told them about James who would be arriving sometime within the next few days to ask for her hand. 

Needless to say, that did not go over well. 

"Don’t be silly,” her mother chided. “You couldn’t possibly have fallen in love within a week’s time. To a commoner, nonetheless.” 

“Firstly, I would appreciate you not treating me like a child and, secondly, he is a knight. A knight who has received the king’s favor and been awarded a demesne of his own.” 

“In favor with King Nicholas? Well, why didn’t you say so?” Lady Selwyn’s attitude took a one-hundred-and eighty-degree turn. As if there hadn’t been any reservations on her part before hearing this, she grew very excited to meet her future son-in-law. 

Two days later, the man arriving on horseback took Gemma’s breath away. Certainly, she’d know her James anywhere but she had not imagined the dashing figure before her. He wore a bright blue tunic which featured simple embroidery along the edges and was belted at the waist. His hair had been trimmed neatly yet had been kept somewhat long as was the fashion of the times. 

Though he confessed to her that he felt “like a preening rooster”, she wasn’t the only one impressed. Her parents welcomed him with open arms and graciously granted his request to marry their daughter. They also acquiesced to his desire to wed her at the week’s end in a double ceremony along with the new sheriff and his betrothed. Notwithstanding the unconventional arrangements, Lady Selwyn couldn’t be more pleased about the thought of her daughter’s wedding being held at the castle chapel. Surely, she would be the envy of her peers. 

With agreements in place, Lord Selwyn insisted James stay the night. He would avoid riding home in the dark and they would get to know each other better. 

Later, when it was time to turn in, neither Gemma nor James felt comfortable openly displaying any form of affection beyond hand-holding in front of her parents. This was especially true because they felt they had made great forward strides in attaining the Selwyn's approval. James wouldn’t risk upsetting them. He merely bid all goodnight before being shown to his room. 

Gemma retired to her own across the hall. Although she had left home less than two weeks prior, it already looked foreign to her. Now that she and James would soon start their lives together, being apart from him was more torturous than when she’d been held captive in the castle. Gemma did not at all regret the decision they had made but the necessary pretense was quickly losing its novelty. 

She wanted to be with her husband. 

Closing her eyes did nothing to help the situation. She tossed and turned as sleep eluded her. Frustrated, she gave up after what seemed to have been an hour of struggle. She left the bed and pulled on a robe so that she could go to the kitchen. Perhaps there was some milk that she could heat to help her relax. 

She got no further than James’ room. His door opened just enough to allow him to peer out. 

“I heard your door. What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. 

“Me either. I thought with such a comfortable bed, surely, I’d sleep like a baby. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you only a room away.” 

“This has gotten out of hand. Maybe we should go ahead and tell everyone.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your parents have accepted me. I’d hate to have a falling out now.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied, dejected. 

She glanced up and down the hall. Everything was still silent in the rest of the house. “Could I come in? Just for a little while?” 

“I’d like nothing more.” 

They got into the bed and lay down facing one another. Dreams of the future were exchanged as well as words of love and longing. Before they knew it, sleep overcame them. 

The sounds of shouting roused the couple still at restful peace in each other’s arms. Through the lingering fog of slumber, they heard Gemma’s mother calling for her. Then more voices. 

“Damn,” the maiden mumbled when she realized what had happened. 

James leaped out from under the covers and rushed to clothe himself. Unfortunately, Gemma only had her nightshift. She had been pulling the robe around herself when the door flew open. 

Her father stood there with a face like thunder. She had never seen him so angry before. 

“How dare you!” he yelled, addressing James. “Right after I have granted you my only daughter’s hand, you take advantage of her? Under my own roof! You have disgraced my entire family!” The irate man stomped away. 

“Gemma! How could you?” her mother cried. 

Behind her, Marian stood staring, her mouth agape. She wanted to help her friend but could not think how. This was disastrous. 

James began gathering his things while Gemma left the room to go after her father. Moments later he heard her screaming, “Don’t be ridiculous!” The man had returned brandishing a sword. James dropped the bundle of items in his arms and put up his hands in surrender. 

“Arm yourself, sir,” he said. 

“I have no intention of fighting you.” 

“Father!” Gemma shouted again. She grabbed onto his arm, “This is completely unnecessary.” 

“I must defend your honor,” he insisted, continuing to wave the blade in a threatening manner. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” James protested. 

“Oh! So, you haven’t disgraced my family?” 

“Perhaps it is what it looks like. Gemma? I could use a little help here.” 

Coming to his aid, she pulled harder against Mr. Selwyn’s arm. "Father, put that down! There is nothing to defend. He didn’t take advantage of me.” 

“Don’t try to protect him. There can be no good explanation as to why you were in this man’s bed.” 

“We’re already married.” 

“Do you really expect me to believe such nonsense?” he bellowed. 

“It’s true! Why would I lie about such a thing?” 

“Oh my god, I think I’m going to faint again,” Mrs. Selwyn said as she placed the back of one hand dramatically against her forehead and leaned against her husband for support. 

“Did you know about this?” Mrs. Selwyn railed at Marian. 

She violently shook her head. “No. By all that is holy, I swear I knew nothing.” She looked at her friend and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? When did this happen?” 

“Explain yourself,” Mr. Selwyn demanded, sheathing the sword. 

“We exchanged vows privately four days ago,” Gemma said. 

"Privately?” her father asked, “Was there a priest? Were there witnesses?” 

Beginning to lose courage, she sheepishly answered, “No.” 

“Why in the world would you be so foolish?” 

“Because I love him and he was leaving to fight with the others. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again.” 

The weight of his daughter’s words struck home. “My lord, Gemma. Are you telling me you...the two of you...” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he asked, “Was this farce consummated?” 

James then averted his gaze, wishing to look anywhere but the man’s eyes. Gemma remained silent. 

Her mother whined, “In the woods? Like animals? Good god, I’m going to be sick. 

Mr. Selwyn helped her over to the bed and laid her down. “Don’t worry dear. I shall remedy this.” 

His attention turned back onto James again. “I suppose the whole charade of asking for her hand is so you can collect a dowry. You’ll not be getting a damn thing from me, you rake.” 

“I don’t want anything from you, sir.” 

Gemma spoke up again. “We had only wanted to spare your feelings and give you a proper wedding.” 

“I guess there’s no point to that, now, is there?” 

“Oh yes there is!” her mother quickly rose to a seated position and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I will not be subjected to the scandal. We will proceed as planned. If any of you breathes a word of this to anybody outside of this room, I’ll make sure you rue for it the rest of your days. And you, sir,” she said pointing at James. “You will go home to make your own preparations and the two of you are not to see each other until the wedding day.” 

“But, Mother!” her daughter wailed at the thought of having James leave her again. 

“Gemma, once, just once. Please grant me this lasting wish without a fight. Then you will be free to live your life in whatever ludicrously eccentric manner you desire. After you’re married, you’ll be his problem.” 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happily ever after.

“Stop fidgeting,” Steven scolded. “You’re making me nervous.” 

“I’m not used to so many people watching me,” James whispered. 

“Look. Here they come. All eyes will be on them now.” 

The grooms, in their gallant attire, were waiting outside in the bailey for their beautiful brides who made their way out of the main hall followed by Marian and Natasha. 

“Whoever would have thought those two would clean up so nicely.” 

Gemma smiled although she barely registered Peggy’s quip. Her eyes were all for James who looked back as though the sun and moon revolved around her. He again wore the same blue tunic that he’d worn the day he officially asked for her hand. The hurried arrangements hadn’t allowed time for the fashioning of new garments but his sisters had managed to add decorative embellishments to the all of the edges. 

His bride also wore the same color of a lighter hue signifying purity. This had been much to her chagrin since it was in actuality the dress originally tailored for her first engagement. Yet, as she set eyes on her handsome groom, all trivialities were forgotten. 

She took James’ hand as Peggy took Steven’s. The remainder of the wedding party, consisting of their friends and family, followed behind as they proceeded to walk across the castle courtyard to the chapel door watched by a healthy number of Nottingham’s townsfolk who were crowded in the open area. 

The priest was waiting at the entrance when the couples arrived at the prescribed hour. He asked the customary questions to ensure the marriages could proceed. Once given all the satisfactory answers required, there was next a short sermon given loud enough for most of the onlookers to hear. The wedding party was then invited inside where the couples exchanged vows then the rings which had been crafted by Banner. After prayers were said, the priest gave a kiss of peace to the forehead of each husband who then passed it on to lips of his wife. 

James, it seemed, could not wholly complete this last task to his satisfaction until the priest sternly cleared his throat.

* * *

As soon as the dance ended, Steven gave his partner a peck on the cheek and went in search of his bride. Gemma, who had lost track of her own mate for a good half-hour, found him adjudicating a drinking contest between Sam and Clint. 

The large hall was nearly packed with bodies. After the dinner had concluded, Steven opened up the doors to the entire village. He could not pass up the opportunity to reassure the community of the new sheriff's good will. People from near and far filtered in and out throughout the night. 

The happy bride edged her way next to James. He wrapped his right arm around her waist and held her close as he’d done repeatedly throughout the evening. It was as if he were afraid someone might once again try to get between them. 

“Who’s winning?” she asked. 

“At this point, they are both going to be losers come morning,” he laughed. “What advice was the wise Steven Grant Rogers imparting upon the poor ill-fated woman who has to put up with me for all of eternity?” 

“None really. He only asked we do our best to keep each other out of trouble and if at any time we need help doing so, we’re to send for him.” 

“Ha! I basically told Peggy as much.” 

“I shall miss them. And the others.” 

“You won’t. I promise. There's a lot of work that needs to be done at the manor so, we will come visit. Often.” 

“Thank you, again, for letting Marian stay with us.” 

“Don’t be silly. I’ll need all the help I can get to handle my problem wife,” he said giving a playful smack to her bottom. 

“James! Behave yourself,” Gemma teased. 

A mischievous look flooded his face. “In fact, maybe I’ll have to put you over my knee later.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“No, I wouldn’t. You’re becoming too good of a shot.” 

With the good sheriff in tow, Peggy joined the group and moved to whisper into Gemma’s ear. “We’ve decided to retire for the night.” 

“Shall we make the announcement so everyone can see you off?” 

“No. The last thing we want is a crowd following behind and kicking up a bawdy ruckus.” 

“Good idea. Perhaps we should do the same. What do you think, husband?” 

“My dearest wife, I am at your command.” 

* * *

**Sherwood Forest, 1193 AD**

“Can I take off the blindfold now?” 

“First, take a guess where we are,” James said. 

“I could tell by the sounds and the smells that we entered the forest a while ago,” Gemma answered. “Given the packs you brought, I think we’re going to have a picnic. Considering how long we’ve been riding, I thought you might take me to the river, but I don’t hear it.”

He slipped the kerchief off her head then dismounted and began removing the saddlebags. Blinking to help her eyes focus, Gemma first only noted the trees in front of her. As she looked around, she saw the familiar circle of a fire pit and around the perimeter, three mud-daubed shelters. 

“It’s still here!” she exclaimed, sliding down from the horse. “I can’t believe, it’s all still here.” 

“Neither can we.” Peggy’s unmistakable voice rang out from inside one of the hovels. She stepped out followed by Steven and the others — Marian, Sam, Clint and Nat — emerged from the other dens. 

Amidst all the cheer and embraces, Gemma declared, “I could not think of a better way to celebrate our anniversary, James.” 

And so, one last time the merry band of collaborators enjoyed each other’s company around an evening fire and slept soundly within the peaceful refuge of the forest. 

Thus, we come to the end of the tale of the wayward maiden and the outlawed knight. The happy couple would for the rest of their days remain in Nottingham as man and wife nevermore to be parted. 

As for the forest itself, over the centuries, the once vast Royal Hunting Forest named Sherwood was sadly eroded by a developing nation. Most of the heathland, along with much woodland, has been lost to the point that a certain familiar demi-god finds it hardly recognizable today. Even the original Nottingham Castle was destroyed by fire less than 700 years later. * 

But, thankfully, at least one thing does still remain: the ever-popular legend of Robin Hood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> * http://sherwoodforest.org.uk/home/  
> \------------
> 
> A few readers messaged me to say they would hear Bryan Adams' "Everything I Do" play while they read this story. I confess to it playing in my own head as I imagined, researched and wrote. The song has been stuck in my head for seven months (yes, this project took me seven months of continuous work to complete lol)! My Spotify discover weekly playlist graced me with a song I think makes the perfect end theme for James & Gemma. Give ["Trees" by Marty Casey & Lovehammers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQAueUJsRNM) a listen.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and will check out the rest of my Works list for more James Buchanan Barnes, Steven Grant Rogers, Thor and other Marvel characters.


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